


Mind, Body, and Soul

by pipermca



Series: Praxian Trine [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Post-War, Praxian Trines, Pre-War, Romance, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Spark Bonds, Trine Dynamics, compromises, or it started off as porn with plot and turned into plot with a bit of porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 292,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: Bluestreak had his life planned out for himself: get his specialization, find a good job, meet two mechs to trine with, get bonded together, and maybe apply for a sparkling from Vector Sigma. He had it all figured out.Then he met Barricade.
Relationships: Barricade/Bluestreak, Barricade/Bluestreak/Prowl, Bluestreak/Prowl, Bluestreak/Prowl/Smokescreen, Bluestreak/Smokescreen
Series: Praxian Trine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153754
Comments: 993
Kudos: 186





	1. Prologue

  
_Artwork by @Klick_tack, as[posted to Twitter](https://twitter.com/Klick_tack/status/1324989715724918786/photo/1), embedded with permission._

If Bluestreak had to pick a favourite way to come out of recharge, it was this: curled on his side with a warm frame pressed up against his, and kisses being gently planted down the back of his neck.

Bluestreak surfaced to consciousness slowly, luxuriating in the warmth against his back. Over the shared bond, he could feel affection mixed with a taste of desire.

Oh, ho! So it was one of **those** mornings, hmm?

Bluestreak wiggled slightly, slotting the planes of his roof and windshield under the front bumper of the mech behind him, and smiled when the hand resting on his hip tightened its grip to pull him even closer.

"G'morning, Cade," Bluestreak murmured. He hummed quietly as the hand on his hip drifted downwards, over his abdominal plating, until it brushed the edges of his interface panel.

"Good morning, Blue," Barricade said in his deep voice, venting softly on Bluestreak's audial. Even with his optics closed, Bluestreak could hear the smile on the darker mech's lips. Another line of kisses traced down the back of his neck. "Did you recharge well?"

As Barricade's fingers slid ever downwards, Bluestreak let his modesty panel transform aside. "I did," he said, and then vented a soft sigh as Barricade delicately rubbed the tips of his fingers along the outer folds of his valve. He hummed for a moment, enjoying his bond mate's touch and the sense of calm and peace he could feel coming from Barricade. It had been a long time since Barricade's spark had felt this untroubled. "This is nice," Bluestreak purred. "What's got you so worked up this morning?"

The hint of arousal Bluestreak had sensed just a moment before rose higher, and Barricade slipped his knee between Bluestreak's legs. With the slight shift in position, Bluestreak could feel the hard shape of Barricade's spike against his aft. "I don't think he's noticed you yet," Barricade rumbled quietly, and one of his fingers dipped into Bluestreak's valve.

Tipping his hips forward to encourage Barricade to slip his finger deeper, Bluestreak opened his optics and looked at the wall next to the berth. "You don't think who has noticed me yet?" he asked. Before he could turn his head to look at Barricade, his lover moaned quietly, and Bluestreak felt his spike twitch against his back plating.

"No, I don't believe he has," said a third voice, and Bluestreak's optics opened wider.

"Prowl!" He twisted around to look behind him, a smile lighting his face. "You're home!"

Spooned behind Barricade, Prowl smiled up at Bluestreak. "I am," he said. His voice was thick with effort as he pulled Barricade's hips towards him, sliding the darker mech down more firmly onto his spike. "I just came in to say good morning, but Cade had other ideas."

Between them, Barricade moaned thickly.

Rolling over completely, Bluestreak leaned over Barricade and grabbed the back of Prowl's head. Pressing his lips against Prowl's, Bluestreak's engine purred as Prowl tipped his head to the side to lock their mouths together tightly. Bluestreak delved into Prowl's mouth with his glossa, seeking a claim and being allowed to find it. The arousal that had been growing in Bluestreak ever since coming online to Barricade's gentle touches grew even more pronounced.

Prowl really was an amazing kisser.

When he pulled back to look at Prowl again, Bluestreak said, "I thought you were on required overtime shifts until they got this protest thing figured out." A thought occurred to him, and he frowned. "Nothing bad happened, right? You would have called us right away if it had. You're all right?"

"Everything's fine, Blue," Prowl said, and a wider smile flickered across his face as Barricade ground his hips back against Prowl's. "Dissident activity has been almost non-existent for a week, so they're relaxing the shifts to let us rest a bit." Prowl glanced down at Barricade as the dark mech made a sound of protest and wiggled his hips again. "Oh... Did you want something, Cade?" Prowl said teasingly, pressing his lips against Barricade's audial.

"You know what I want," Barricade growled, and pulled Bluestreak down towards him. "Less chatting. More fragging." Barricade's fingers dipped between Bluestreak's legs again, sampling the dampness that had accumulated there. "This morning, I want to be sandwiched between the two prettiest mechs I know."

Bluestreak laughed again, nestling himself against Barricade's chest. "Tell me about what he's doing to you," Bluestreak whispered, nibbling the underside of Barricade's chin.

"You **know** what he's doing to me," Barricade said, his voice strained. "He's got that fantastic spike of his sunk so deep into me, he's... aaah..." Barricade vented softly as Bluestreak maneuvered the dark mech's spike into his valve. "He's so deep and I feel so full and it's so good. Oh, frag, Blue," Barricade gasped as Prowl thrust into him again, and Bluestreak groaned as the movement pushed Barricade's spike deep into him. "You're both so perfect. I'm the luckiest mech alive."

"Keep that up and I'll have to cite you for gross exaggeration," Prowl said as he started thrusting with purpose.

Bluestreak whimpered as each of Prowl's thrusts carried through Barricade, and he clung to the dark mech's hips. "I don't know, Prowl," Bluestreak said. His voice was static-laden with the effort of keeping it steady as the ridges on Barricade's spike bumped across his anterior node over and over. "I think Cade's pretty lucky to have us as trinemates."

"I am, I am, you know I am, oh frag, yes, yes!" Barricade moaned, caught helplessly between the two other Praxians. "Please please **please**..."

Bluestreak grabbed the sides of Barricade's head, pulling his golden face down, reducing his babbling to whimpers smothered by Bluestreak's lips. Barricade deepened the kiss, biting down on Bluestreak's mouth demandingly just as Prowl's engine roared to a climax. Barricade's hands spasmed against Bluestreak's hips as his own charge peaked, and Bluestreak groaned his own climax into Barricade's mouth as the dark mech spilled his transfluid deep in Bluestreak's valve.

It was always that way when the three of them ended up in berth together, as infrequent as that was now with their scattered schedules. One mech's arousal would ripple across the bond, stoking the fire within the other two, higher and higher, until all three of them crested simultaneously in an explosion of pleasure and bliss.

Yes, that was definitely among Bluestreak's favourite ways to come out of recharge.

In the long drowsy moments afterwards, as they gave each other small, affectionate touches and murmured their oft-used sweet nothings, Bluestreak remembered thinking that Barricade had it right, after all. Bluestreak knew with utter certainty that he was one of the luckiest mechs alive to be trined to these two amazing Praxians. They were matched so perfectly, complementing each other in mind, body, and spark.

Everything that morning was just perfect.

Of course, that was also the day that everything fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of those fics that I thought was going to be a short story, but then the plot totally spiraled away from me. 
> 
> The genesis for this story idea came to me at TFCon Toronto in 2019. I remember chatting with some people asking why there were so many stories about Seeker trines, but none about the Praxians! I was mulling this over when suddenly the whole plot for this fic dropped into my lap.
> 
> I worked on this fic over Nanowrimo, but it's still only about a third to a half completed. Since this first chapter (a prologue, really) is rather short, the next chapter should go up later this week. Then I hope to settle into a once-a-week schedule. Keep your fingers crossed!


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A century ago, Bluestreak met Barricade. Their story starts where you might expect a good romance story to start: in a crowded bar, and with a bad pick-up line.

But this story doesn't really start there. This story starts almost a century earlier. This story starts where you might expect a good romance story to start: in a crowded bar, and with a bad pick-up line.

Bluestreak drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if his friends had ditched him. Strikeback had promised Bluestreak a drink for coming to the bar with them, and Overcast had gone with him to get their orders in. But it felt like they'd been gone for hours, and Bluestreak felt like a jerk holding a table just for himself. He'd already had two groups coming up asking if they could sit in the seats he'd been holding.

He craned his neck and scanned the crowd up by the bar again, but couldn't see either of them. Maybe they were on their way back? Or maybe they'd found someone to go home with already. That would have been fast. Then again, the whole reason they wanted to come here was to trawl around looking for a third. Bluestreak had expected that he would end up sitting alone before the night was over. He just hadn't expected that to happen before he got his first drink.

"Excuse me," said a deep voice, accompanied by a tap on Bluestreak's shoulder.

Dipping his sensor wings and putting on his best apologetic face, Bluestreak looked up at the mech standing beside the table. "I'm sorry. I'm holding these two chairs for my friends," he said, gesturing at the two empty seats. "They just went up to the bar and I'm sure they'll–"

The dark-coloured mech smiled and waved his hand. "No, that's all right. I just wanted to ask you something."

Bluestreak relaxed and tipped a sensor wing upward. "Oh?" he said, now curious. The mech looked vaguely familiar, but Bluestreak couldn't exactly place his face. "What's that?"

With a tiny flutter of his sensor wings, the mech said, "I wanted to ask if your wheels felt a bit worn, because you've been driving through my thoughts all night." He accompanied the line with a cheeky grin and a wink.

Bluestreak stared up at the mech in disbelief for a moment before laughing. "I'm sorry, but that was just awful," he said, shaking his head.

"I know. I'm sorry, but it was the best I could come up with, and only after a few stiff drinks," said the other mech, leaning on the table. "Just be glad I didn't tell you how nice your paint was, and then ask you if you wanted to wear some of mine." As Bluestreak laughed again, the dark mech held out his hand. "I'm Barricade, by the way. I think we've got Astrophysics together."

Bluestreak looked at Barricade more closely. He was striking, with black or dark blue paint (it was hard to tell in the dim light in this corner of the bar) and a well-sculpted golden face. He definitely looked familiar. "Yeah, I think maybe we do," Bluestreak replied, reaching out to grip Barricade's forearm. "I'm Bluestreak."

Barricade gestured at one of the empty chairs, and Bluestreak nodded. "How did you do on that first test we had the other day?" Barricade asked, sliding into the seat. "Because I just bombed it." He rolled his optics theatrically.

"I did all right," Bluestreak replied. "I'm not very worried about it, though. I just need a pass so I can fulfil my science credit. It hasn't seemed too bad yet. It's just a little memorization and some equations. I'm pretty sure I can get out of the class with a passing mark without putting too much effort into it." He blinked, then added, "Err, I'm not trying to brag. Sorry."

"It's all right. No sense in hiding it if you're doing well. I'm sure not hiding the fact that I'm **not** doing well." Barricade sighed and his wings drooped behind him. "To be honest, I'm not even sure why Astrophysics is on my course list. What does a criminal justice major need with science?"

"You know how the slogan goes." Lifting his sensor wings and sitting up as straight as he could, Bluestreak placed a hand on his chest and recited, "Lower Praxus University! For your present, for your future..."

With a grin, Barricade joined him to add, "...For a well-rounded specialization!" They both laughed, and Barricade shrugged. "I guess. I still don't see the point in it. Maybe I would have been better off going to an applied college." He tipped his head to the side. "What are you majoring in?"

"I'm in business management and administration," Bluestreak said. At Barricade's pained groan, Bluestreak frowned. "What? It's really interesting. All of the interplay between economic factors like pricing, supply, labour resources, organic employee adaption requirements, marketing... It's like playing a giant strategy game."

"There must be a lot of math in that, what with all the economics," Barricade said. When Bluestreak nodded, Barricade said, "That explains why you did so well on the quiz. It was **all** math." He slumped face down onto the table as if he'd been shot. "I'm **never** going to pass that class. I'll be stuck trying to get my science credit until I graduate."

"I think everyone's got a subject they don't do well in. Not everyone can be good at everything," Bluestreak said with a laugh. He smiled at Barricade as the dark mech tipped his head to look up at him. There was something about Barricade's effusiveness that he found amusing. "I mean, I'm doing awful in Praxian Literature."

"How?" Barricade asked, his tone filled with disbelief. "I mean... No offense, but you just have to read stuff and write about it."

"You have to write coherently about it," Bluestreak said, wagging a finger. "No matter what I do, I tend to write like I talk, and I know I get off on tangents sometimes, and I just can't seem to bring them back to what I was originally talking about. On my last paper the instructor wrote that it was ‘disjointed and aimless!' I mean, I know I'm a bad writer, but it wasn't unintelligible." He sighed. "If I can manage to get a passing mark there I'm never taking another writing-intensive course again."

Barricade leaned back in the chair and gave Bluestreak a considering look. "Can I buy you a drink? I have a proposition to make."

Looking around again, Bluestreak finally caught sight of his friends up near the bar. Strikeback was leaning against the wall, chatting up another mech with his classic ‘your place or mine' look, while Overcast hovered behind his shoulder. There was no way they were coming back with his drink. He'd have to give them both an audial-full when he saw them the next day for abandoning him.

He looked back at Barricade. Happy that he at least had someone to talk to now, he smiled. "So long as your proposition doesn't involve trading paint, sure. It doesn't look like my friends are coming back." At Barricade's questioning look, he added, "I'll have a Tarnish Sunrise."

When Barricade returned with their drinks, it turned out that his proposition made a huge amount of sense, and Bluestreak agreed to it immediately. Barricade desperately needed someone to walk him through the equations for Astrophysics, since that was the main obstacle he was facing in the course. In exchange, he offered to edit Bluestreak's papers for Praxian Literature.

It turned out to be a perfect collaboration. By the time the semester ended, Barricade's grade in Astrophysics had improved enough so that he was able to pass and get a science credit under his wheels. Meanwhile, Bluestreak not only passed Praxian Literature, but some of the tips that Barricade gave him for outlining and organizing his ideas helped him plan out the presentations he needed to do in some of his other courses.

And best of all, they both gained a friend.

Helping each other out in their courses shifted naturally into spending the small amount of leisure time they had between exams and homework together as well. But when the next semester started, they realized that they didn't have any courses in common. That wasn't unexpected, given their majors. Fortunately, their course loads were similar. The regular study sessions they'd developed in the previous semester continued, and they turned into the highlight of Bluestreak's week.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" Barricade asked out of the blue one night, when they'd commandeered a private study carrel in the library for themselves.

Bluestreak looked up from his work, then stretched as he realized he'd been looking down at his data pads for almost a straight hour. He hissed in discomfort as his neck and back protested the movement. "Well, someplace with a good job," Bluestreak said. He tensed all of the cables in his arms and flared out his wings, then relaxed and looked at Barricade. The golden-faced mech was watching him with a small smile on his lips. "Hopefully I can find a job that pays well and is interesting to do. Managing the operations for a mid-sized company would be perfect, I think."

"Well, that's professionally. How about personally?" Barricade asked. "Do you see yourself paired or trined by then?"

Bluestreak thought for a moment before replying. "Maybe? Or maybe not... I'm not really sure. I know that I want to be graduated and established in a good job before I even think about dating any mechs seriously. Finding two mechs who would be a good match seems like a lot of work, and I know it would be distracting. I don't multitask well with that sort of thing," he said with a smile.

"When you mention finding a good match," Barricade said, "what does that mean to you?" His sensor wings dipped slightly, then rose again. His optics were fixed on Bluestreak's. "What kind of mech do you think would be good for you?"

Doodling some spiky lines on his data pad, Bluestreak thought for a moment before answering. It felt hard to put into words what he felt he might look for. Finally, he said, "It would have to be someone I can laugh with. Someone who respects me, but who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm being wrong or idiotic about something. Someone who will listen to me, but who can tell me to shut up when I go on and on like I know I can." He looked up at Barricade, who was still watching him carefully. "Someone who's kind. I think that's the most important thing." Bluestreak leaned his head on his hand and smiled. "Why?"

Barricade glanced down at his work and shrugged. "I don't know. I was just curious. Some other students in one of my classes were talking about their 'five year plan,' so it got me thinking." He started tabbing through the data pad in front of him, but it didn't look like he was actually reading anything. He glanced up at Bluestreak quickly before looking back down at his work. "Sorry if it seemed like I was prying."

"Don't worry," Bluestreak said. "You weren't." He smiled when Barricade looked up at him again. "How about you? Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Barricade smiled and leaned back in his chair, his sensor wings relaxing behind him. "I'm not totally sure. I'd like a bond mate. I've always wanted to be a mentor, too, so... You know, someday." He shrugged. "But work-wise, I've been thinking through different options. For example, I'm starting to think that maybe going for a specialization wasn't a good idea for me. I can't see myself working a desk job somewhere in five years. It just sounds so... dull." Barricade flipped his stylus around in his fingers absently. "I've heard of mechs making a lot of money going right into a labour trade."

"True," Bluestreak said. "But labour is hard on your frame. You can make a lot of money, but you also end up spending a lot in maintenance." He smiled. "There's something to be said for a slightly boring desk job where your joints don't wear out in a few years and your filters don't need replacing every six months because of the dust. And besides, I've read up on your major. Not all of the professions you can get result in ‘boring desk jobs,'" he said.

"You've read up on my major?" Barricade grinned when Bluestreak nodded. "Why? Thinking of double majoring? Maybe starting up your own private security firm?"

Bluestreak started to shake his head, then stopped as he considered what Barricade said. "That's... actually not a bad idea," he said. Then he shook his head firmly. "But starting your own company is a lot of work, and is a huge financial risk. I definitely don't want to jump into that before I think I'm ready."

"We could do it, you know," Barricade said. He leaned forward, looking at Bluestreak intently. "You could run the business side of things, and I could run the operations side. And if we're working for ourselves, we don't need all of this, or some certificate saying we've got a specialized function." He gestured to the piles of data pads and notes scattered on the table. He smiled the way he did when he was trying to be charming, waving his sensor wings behind him alluringly. "You know that we'd make a fantastic team."

Bluestreak glanced down at his work again, hoping to hide the flush in his face. "We would, probably," he said. Slag, but the mech could be charming. He was also full of wonderful, tempting, terrible ideas. When Bluestreak was sure he had his expression under control, he looked back up. "But if we did have our specializations, we could make even more money. And even once I've got my specialization, I want to work for someone else first. I want to get some experience, so I can see for myself what works and what doesn't." He smiled, hoping to fix the slightly disappointed look that crossed Barricade's face. "Then, maybe, someday... I can think about starting my own business."

Barricade leaned back in his chair, his casual expression returning. "If you do, make sure to look me up," he said with a wink. "I'd love to see what the two of us could do together."

* * *

A year passed, and then another, almost before Bluestreak realized it was happening. And certainly without notice, Barricade had become a fixture in Bluestreak's life. They fueled together several times a week, and a celebratory trip to the bar became a tradition after major exams. Barricade took Bluestreak on his first trip to the race track ever (which is where Barricade ended up soundly beating Bluestreak in a five lap race), and Bluestreak introduced Barricade to the processor-soothing calmness of sensor-guided target shooting (an activity that Barricade didn't have much patience for at the beginning, but grew to enjoy after accompanying Bluestreak to the range a few times).

Bluestreak also discovered, to his delight, that Barricade was an excellent singer. One night, while they were walking back from the bar to their dorms, Barricade looked up at the glowing orb of Luna One rising over Praxus, and suddenly started singing a love ballad that was popular at the time.

_In the rays of the moon and the light of the night,  
When my tires are hot and my lights are bright,  
If there's one thing I need to feel truly free,  
There's nothing I want more than to have you beside me._

Barricade sang the whole song in a deep, sonorous voice that matched the original vocalist, and when he was done, Bluestreak burst out in applause. "That was fantastic!" As Barricade swung into an unsteady bow, still obviously overfueled from the bar, Bluestreak grabbed him by the arm to keep him upright. "You never told me you sang!"

"It's just a hobby," Barricade said. He leaned on Bluestreak as they started walking again. He looked up at the moon, then back at Bluestreak. "And that song just seemed appropriate for tonight."

"Have you ever thought about, I don't know, recording a demo? Even just for the university broadcast freq?" Bluestreak asked. "You really do have a lovely voice."

Barricade hunched his shoulders slightly. "Not really," he said. "Redline – my culi – said that it's practically impossible to make a living being a performer. He tried, and nothing came of it, and I think he's a much better singer than I am. I'm pretty sure it was his part of the coding where I got my vocalizer from." He smiled again. "So I just sing for my friends once in a while. More often when I'm drunk."

"Well, you can sing for me anytime," Bluestreak said. "Because I love the sound of your voice."

"Really?" Barricade said. He was watching the ground in front of him to make sure he didn't stumble, but Bluestreak felt his sensor wings twitch.

"Really!" Bluestreak smiled at Barricade when the dark mech looked at him with wide crimson optics. "Maybe I can even get you to sing for me even when you're not drunk."

On one occasion, they found themselves mixed up in a bar fight at their regular place. Bluestreak was never very clear on exactly what happened. One minute Barricade was bringing drinks back to their table, and the next thing Bluestreak knew there was a crowd of mechs shouting at Barricade. It seemed like Barricade might have elbowed past someone who'd had just a bit too much high grade, and upon taking offense the other mech had gotten a bunch of his friends to show Barricade what they thought of him.

Bluestreak discovered that night that he knew how to throw a punch a lot better than he thought he did, and that Barricade was a great mech to have your back in a fight. But he also discovered that it wasn't much fun sitting in a lockup with a bunch of drunken mechs. Fortunately, thanks to the bar's surveillance video, he and Barricade escaped disorderly conduct charges.

"A good thing, too," Barricade muttered as they made their way back to their dorms very late that night (or very early the next morning, depending on how you looked at it). "Charges like that wouldn't have looked good on me, considering my specialization major."

Bluestreak patted Barricade on the shoulder. "At least you wouldn't have been alone," Bluestreak said. When Barricade glanced at him in surprise, Bluestreak smiled. "I wouldn't have let you take the fall for all of that!"

Barricade grinned at Bluestreak and thumped him on the back. "You're a good mech, Blue," Barricade said. "I'm glad you're my friend."

Bluestreak had friends already, but somehow Barricade seemed to fit with him better than the other acquaintances he'd picked up during his studies at Lower Praxus University. He and Barricade clicked in a way that Bluestreak didn't with his other friends. Not a day went by that Bluestreak didn't talk with Barricade in some fashion, either in person, over comms, or just via a short message drop if they were both busy with their studies.

Bluestreak might not have noticed how present Barricade had become in his life, but his roommate did. 

"When are you going to ask him out?" Overcast asked Bluestreak one day. They were both studying in their shared room, with Bluestreak at his desk and Overcast sprawled across on his berth.

Bluestreak glanced up from his workstation, wondering if he'd misheard his roommate. "Who?" he asked.

Overcast rolled his optics and sat up. "Barricade," he said. "You got back home awfully late last night," he added with a leer.

Shaking his head, Bluestreak said, "We're just friends! And we got to talking after leaving the bar, and lost track of time. We really weren't doing anything." He lifted his sensor wings in sincerity at Overcast's saucy grin. "Honest!"

"All right, fine, so you're not doing anything now," Overcast said. "But you could! It's obvious you two are well matched. Why don't you ask him out, and see if you're compatible? You could be letting a possible pairing slip through your fingers."

"I'm not looking for a pairing right now," Bluestreak said. "It's not a priority for me. I've got my list of things I want to accomplish: finish school, get my specialization certificate, find a good job, start looking for a pairing, and then if that works out maybe see if we can find a third. Then, if we're all in agreement, we can bond properly. Maybe go apply to Vector Sigma after that but... All of that's in the future. I don't have time for it now." He shrugged. "I just don't want to be distracted by things like dating while I'm trying to finish school."

"You know you can't use spreadsheets and master plans to find your way through life, right?" Overcast asked. He leaned forward, his sensor wings quivering as he looked at Bluestreak intently. "Sometimes you just have to throw your plans to the wind, and do what your spark is telling you to do."

"There's no harm in making sure that I'm looking a few steps ahead," Bluestreak said. "Jumping into things without thinking through the consequences is a good way to make a horrible mistake. I just don't think I can juggle school and dating. I know myself. I'll get distracted, and I can't afford that."

"It's not like it takes that much processing power to keep up a relationship! Strike and me have managed it. We're both managing to keep our grades up. Well, mostly," Overcast said, a frown flitting across his face.

Bluestreak looked down at his workstation before the reply he wanted to give came out of his vocalizer. Sure, Overcast and Strikeback had been together for years, but Bluestreak had also been woken out of recharge by Overcast crying softly in the middle of the night after he'd had a fight with Strikeback. And he knew that Overcast's grades in mechanical engineering weren't where they could be if he'd focused more on his work and less on his relationship with Strikeback. "Look, I'm just not interested," Bluestreak said, trying to deflect the conversation.

"And that's a load of scrap," Overcast said. When Bluestreak looked up at him again, he flashed him a smile. "I've seen the way you look at Barricade. And admit it... You're already distracted."

Maybe he was.

The next time he met Barricade for fuel, Bluestreak tried to look at Barricade with fresh optics. Was the dark mech **really** a good candidate for a pairing? He'd only thought of him as a friend before. But now that he was paying attention, Bluestreak noticed how brightly Barricade's optics glowed when he laughed at one of Bluestreak's jokes. He noticed how close the two of them sat at the table, their knees almost touching as they got deeper into their conversation. He noticed how his spark fluttered when Barricade touched his arm to make a point.

Slag. Maybe Overcast was right.

But Bluestreak had plenty of time to ask Barricade out. They both had just under a year left in their majors, and then they'd have their specialization certificates. He could ask Barricade out right after graduation. If Barricade was interested in him as well, and they decided they were compatible, then they could both look for jobs together. School would be over, and Bluestreak would have more time for the distraction that dating and courting would be.

Yes, there was lots of time to turn their friendship into something more.

But based on the comments that Barricade had been making ever since he'd met him, perhaps Bluestreak shouldn't have been surprised when the dark mech told him that he was dropping out of university.

"I don't understand why you're doing this," Bluestreak said as he watched Barricade pack his belongings in his dorm room. He sat on the edge of Barricade's desk, his wings sagging behind his back. "You have less than a year left. Why not just finish it, and **then** get a job?"

Barricade carefully wrapped one of his racing trophies in packing material and placed it in his crate. "Because the Senatorial Guard only does a recruiting drive once every five years. When I applied I didn't think I would get the job, but... They said they were really impressed by my application. And this is a great opportunity for me." Barricade glanced at Bluestreak and frowned. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I am!" Bluestreak said immediately. "I **am** happy for you. It's just..." He got up and paced to the window, looking down at the driveway leading away from the dorm. Tomorrow morning Barricade would drive down it, vanishing around the corner and out of Bluestreak's life. Bluestreak had never even left Praxus before; Iacon felt like an impossible distance away. "I just thought we'd graduate together," he said. He couldn't keep his emotion out of his voice, but at least it could be passed off as sadness that his friend was leaving.

After all, that's all Barricade was to him. A friend.

"Yeah, that's one of my regrets," Barricade replied. Bluestreak turned around to see Barricade looking at him, his own wings canted downwards. Barricade gave Bluestreak a rueful smile. "It would have been fantastic to graduate together. The binge we could have had at the bar would have been epic."

"Yeah. It would have." Bluestreak picked up the little toy tankformer he'd bought Barricade after the dark mech had passed his Function and Violence class last semester. "It just feels like your time here was a bit of... a waste?" Bluestreak said hesitantly. He certainly hadn't felt like meeting Barricade was a waste, but he wasn't sure how Barricade felt about it.

"It wasn't a waste at all," Barricade said. "I mean, I can still get a specialization certificate." He grabbed another trophy from his shelf and started wrapping it. "My work experience with the Senatorial Guard will count as credits, and if I take a couple of night courses I can get my certificate through the Iacon School of Applied Functions. All my credits from here should transfer. Plus, I'll even be able to get a pede in the door, and hopefully get a job in Investigation and Intelligence."

"Oh. Well, that's good," Bluestreak said. He **tried** to sound upbeat. After all, his best friend **did** land a fairly prestigious job. It **was** a good opportunity for him. It sounded like he **had** thought this through, and wasn't acting on impulse. Given the same set of circumstances, Bluestreak couldn't be sure that he wouldn't have made the same decision Barricade had.

Bluestreak watched Barricade finish packing his trophies, then stood up. "I should get going," he said. "I haven't finished the reading for Employee Relations that I need to do for tomorrow's class." He held out his arm towards Barricade. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Barricade. I wish you the best of luck in your new job."

Barricade stared at Bluestreak's hand for a moment. "Blue, I'm just moving to Iacon, not to another planet." Barricade held out his arms, and before Bluestreak knew what was happening he was wrapped up in Barricade's embrace. "We'll keep in touch. We can talk as often as you like," Barricade said. His voice was soft, but Bluestreak heard him clearly because his mouth was right beside Bluestreak's audial. "And I'll write to you as often as I can, if you want."

They fit together perfectly, almost as if they had been made for one another. Bluestreak had stiffened in surprise when Barricade's arms went around him, but as soon as the embrace closed around him and Barricade's hands rested gently on his back, he melted into the touch. Bluestreak closed his optics as he rested his head on Barricade's shoulder. "Promise?" he asked quietly. "Promise me that you'll write and call?"

"I promise," Barricade said firmly. He released Bluestreak from his hold and leaned back so that he could look at Bluestreak's face. His optics darted around as if searching for something written in Bluestreak's expression. "Blue, what's wrong?" he asked.

Bluestreak's vents hitched slightly as he tried to organize his thoughts into something coherent. But even though Barricade's coaching had helped him in his papers and presentations, Bluestreak could not seem to harness that skill to explain to Barricade how he was feeling. "I'm going to miss you. A lot," Bluestreak said, knowing that he sounded miserable. He let his sensor wings droop, and he looked away from Barricade's gaze. "I don't know if you realized this, but over the past year or so you've pretty much become my best friend. I mean, I have other friends, but you're the one who I spend the most time with. And... And maybe I took you for granted, and I shouldn't have done that, because I think that maybe I started thinking about you as more than a friend. And maybe I should have told you how I felt about you instead of just waiting for us to graduate and then telling you, but now I see that I should have told you as soon as I realized it. But you're right, this is a pretty great job for you, and it's the sort of thing you were planning on applying for anyway when you graduated, so I guess you didn't need to wait, especially since I didn't say anything about what I was planning on asking you later, and..."

"Blue." Barricade's voice was commanding but gentle, and Bluestreak stopped speaking immediately. As soon as Barricade saw that Bluestreak was looking at him, he smiled ruefully. "Are you trying to tell me that I should I have used the trading paint pickup line first when I saw you in that bar, after all?" he asked.

A soft laugh was surprised out of Bluestreak. "I don't know. That's still a terrible line," he said. He lowered his optics to hide the flush in his face at the sudden image of what Barricade was implying. He had enjoyed himself with prior lovers, before he'd decided to dedicate himself to his studies, but none of them had inspired the deep sort of feelings he was having about Barricade. "But... Maybe."

"I'd be lying if I hadn't thought of it, you know," Barricade said. Bluestreak looked up at him with wide optics, and found the dark mech smiling at him. "But I knew you wanted to wait until you were done with school, so I didn't press. I figured that I'd catch up with you after you graduated, and see if you were interested then." Barricade lifted his hand from Bluestreak's back and gently brushed a finger along Bluestreak's helm vent, an action that made Bluestreak's spark flutter. "And I don't think that adding that layer to our relationship is something you'd want to do now, with me leaving tomorrow."

"No," Bluestreak said in agreement. For as brash and impulsive as Barricade was, he did occasionally use his logic circuits instead of his spark. Bluestreak hoped that the smile he gave Barricade didn't look too fake. "That would probably be a bad idea."

"Listen. You know what's best for you. You've always had your sensors fixed on your goal, and that's something I've admired in you since we first met," Barricade said. "And I'm not going to do anything to get in the way of what you need to do to reach that goal." He pulled Bluestreak into another hug and then stepped away from, gesturing towards the door of his room. "Go on. It's just one more year. Pass those tests. Nail those presentations. Get your certificate. Then, when you're done with all that... We can see where we want to go from there." 

Bluestreak hesitated for a moment, considering Barricade's words. Then, he swept back into Barricade's space and gave him one more hug. "All right," he said, proud that his vocalizer was steady. "But don't you dare forget about me."

Barricade cuffed Bluestreak on the shoulder as they stepped apart again. "There's no way I could ever forget you, Blue," he said. "You're too good of a friend to forget."


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Barricade leaves university, he and Bluestreak keep in touch.

> Bluestreak -
> 
> I am so sorry it's taken me so long to write. I meant to write you as soon as I got settled, but that took a lot longer than I was expecting. _[apology glyph]_
> 
> It turns out that the 'relocation assistance' that they promised in the placement ad was basically just giving me a listing of vacant housing units in Iacon. So I had to put myself up in a hotel while I looked for someplace to live, in between going to orientation and getting my training done. I finally found a place, but it's just a microflat. There's barely enough room for just me. I'm already looking to see if I can find someplace better as soon as I can. The housing situation here is terrible, so I'm not sure how much luck I'll have.
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you didn't think I'd forgotten about you! I just moved in yesterday so I'm still trying to get everything settled. Once I get my comm line set up in the new place I plan on giving you a call. Hope that's still all right.
> 
> -Barricade

Barricade –

Thank you for writing! I was starting to get a little worried that you hadn't even made it to Iacon, so I'm very glad to hear from you.

I'm sorry to hear about your trouble in finding someplace to live. That must be really stressful. And it's terrible that they didn't give you much help! Was it clear when you applied how much assistance you were going to get? I wonder if there's some way for you to raise that as an issue with your employer. Typically those things are spelled out very clearly in employment contracts, so I'm surprised that they would be giving you misleading information.

Things have been very quiet here. I'm just finishing up my final exams for this semester. I really miss having you here as a study buddy, but I've been managing. It's just a matter of making new routines, I suppose. I've been studying with my roommate and his partner, but I think I'm going to tell them I'll be studying on my own for the last few exams. It just isn't the same without you.

I'd love to hear what Iacon is like! I've never been there, and I've only seen articles and vids of the city on the news. I know that it's a lot larger than Praxus, but how does it feel? Or maybe that's too vague of a question. What are your impressions of it?

And yes, I would love to hear from you once you've got your comm line set up. You have my comm code in the dorm here.

-Bluestreak

> Bluestreak –
> 
> Wow, you sure write back quickly! I figured it would be at least a couple of weeks before I got a response from you. What did you do, write me back as soon as you got my message? Didn't you have exams to study for? _[laughter glyph]_ Although I guess you'll done with those by now.
> 
> I'll give you the bad news first: I don't know how often we'll be able to talk. I got my comm line set up finally, but then I looked at the rates for calling Praxus and just about threw a piston. I made one call to my mentors as soon as my line was set up, and threw another piston when I got the bill. I'm going to work a bit first to see how my finances work out, and then I'll see how often I can afford to call you. I'm also going to look around to see if I can find a cheaper method to make calls. I think there are comm stations in some of the Public Archive buildings that have very low rates, so I'll look into that. The only problem with those is we won't have any privacy, but at least we could talk!
> 
> You asked about the city, and the main thing I can say is that Iacon is big – **really** big. It's way bigger than I was expecting. It's also a lot busier than Praxus. You know how all the bars in Praxus close at about the same time, just after midnight? Well, there are bars here that are open all the time, day and night. They never close! Which makes sense because the whole city seems to operate the same way. Everything is open at all hours. It can be a little disorienting but I'm getting used to it, especially since I'm on rotating shifts. So even if I get off work in the middle of the night, everything is still open. If you ever come to visit, we'll have to check out some of these round-the-clock bars and see if we can't put a good dent in their high grade stock. _[fuel bubbles glyph]_
> 
> There are also a lot more organics here than I was expecting. You see them on the news, and I know that there are a few in Praxus, here and there, but it's a lot different seeing them **everywhere** you go. There are neighbourhoods specific to organics, enclosed in domes for the various atmospheres they need, but you can also see them out in the main parts of Iacon all the time. It's both cool and a little bothersome, especially at work. They're in the Senate chambers all the time doing... I don't know, politics or something. We have to make sure they're kept safe. Some of them are a lot smaller than Cybertronians, and they're very easily damaged. They have their own special roads and walkways just for them so they don't accidentally get crushed, I guess. It seems like a waste of space, but I guess it's necessary.
> 
> That's it from here. I miss you. Every time I see something new here I think how cool it would be if I could show it to you. 
> 
> I'll let you know about the comm situation as soon as I can.
> 
> -Barricade

Barricade –

Don't worry about the cost of a comm! I can definitely chip in for it; there's no reason for you to pay for it all on your own. And if you have to use the public comm stations, that works too. It's not like we're going to be talking about anything really private. Or at least, I wasn't planning on it. Let me know! I'd love to talk with you any way we can manage.

I registered for my final semester's courses last week, and classes started today. I can't believe graduation is coming so soon! These years have just flown by. Before I know it I'll be applying for jobs. But before that I'll have to finish my capstone project, which I'm very nervous about... But I was thinking about this the other day, and I thought that maybe you can help me! I decided to do my project on Cybertronian/organic labour relations, and my advisor said that it was a really interesting topic. So if it's all right, could I use you as a source for opinions on organics, since you see them all the time? Since it's for school work, I could probably even book time on the school's comm station and call you directly. Talking to you would just be an added benefit!

I'm going to have to cut this short, since I already have work to do in my first classes. I can tell this semester's going to be really hard, but at least I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Hope to talk to you soon!

-Bluestreak

> Dear Bluestreak –
> 
> It was really great being able to talk to you finally. I hope the answers I gave to your interview questions helped you out. And I agree with your advisor: your project sounds like an interesting topic. I don't know if I would have thought so if I was still back in Praxus, but being here in Iacon I can see how that type of research would be useful. I know other cities, like Kaon, have lots more organics living in them than Praxus does. Maybe I'll get used to having so many organics around, but right now it's just weird.
> 
> Also, are you sure you won't get into trouble setting up weekly comms for us on the school account? I don't want you to risk your standing with the university, especially with you being so close to graduation. But if you're sure it'll be all right, I can't wait to talk to you again.
> 
> I've spent most of the last few weeks trying to find somewhere else to live, and not having much luck. This place is really close to work, which is great, but it's also really expensive for what I get. It's just one room, with a wash rack and a little fuel prep area. I have to fold the berth up if I want to have anywhere to sit! Although I've gotten into the habit of just leaving it open all the time and sitting on it to watch the holovid and taking my fuel. It's not like this place is big enough to have anyone over to visit. Also, the walls are really thin, so you can hear everything going on the neighbouring units, and the wash rack solvent isn't as hot as I like it. It's just those little things that all add up to it not being a great place to live. But it's home until I find something else.
> 
> Work has been all right. It's not really what I was expecting, although it's exactly what was described to be in the interview. Maybe I just needed to work harder on my comprehension skills. [amused glyph] It's mostly standing around scanning mechs and organics coming into the Senatorial chambers, or patrolling the building after hours. I have gotten some good training in weapons handling and self-defense, but I'm not eligible for further training until I've been here for a year. That's fine, I guess... You have to put in your time before you get considered for more. It'll happen eventually. _[shrug glyph]_
> 
> How is school going? I know that I did nothing but complain about it while I was there, but now that I've seen the other side, I sort of miss it. And I miss you, too. I miss you a lot more than I miss school, that's for sure!
> 
> Can't wait to talk to you again. _[spark glyph]_
> 
> Your friend,
> 
> -Barricade

Dear Barricade –

I've got good news and bad news.

The bad news is that I have to stop with the weekly comms on the school's comm station. My advisor took a look at the comm logs and asked who I was talking to all the time. I figured it would be a bad idea to lie to him, so I told him the truth: that I have a friend in Iacon who was providing me with information on what it's like to work closely with organics, but that we talked about personal stuff too and sometimes spent more time on that than my interview questions. Fortunately, he just sort of laughed, but he did say that I should have enough information to finish my project, and that I should stop using it as an excuse to chat with my friend.

So basically, the free comms are gone, which is why I'm back to writing to you again.

But on to the good news! I told you how I was starting to apply for jobs, and how there were a few long-shot places that I applied to? Well... I got an offer at one of them, and it's in Iacon. I didn't tell you about that one since I thought I didn't have a chance of getting it, but I did a holovid interview with them and it went really well. The owner of the company was really interested in my capstone project, so we talked about that a lot. The owner is A'ovan, and she employs a lot of other organics and Cybertronians. She actually wants to apply some of my ideas in her company! Can you believe that? Then a few weeks later they wanted a second interview, where we went over my skillset and what I'm looking for in a position. And then yesterday I got a job offer!

I'm moving to Iacon!

I mean, I'll be moving to Iacon after I finish my specialization and get my certificate, but then I'll start setting up my move! I am so excited to be in the same city as you again. I cannot wait to see you. I'm terrified to be moving so far away from home, but I'm also so glad that I know someone there already.

As soon as I find out more information about when I'm moving to Iacon, I will let you know.

With great excitement,

-Bluestreak

> Dear Bluestreak-
> 
> You got a job in Iacon?! That's amazing!
> 
> I'm so happy for you, but really I'm happy for me. Can you blame me? My best friend is coming to live in Iacon!
> 
> _[video clip of a racing frame driving excitedly around in circles]_
> 
> I'd love to talk to you again, but I totally get it about the comms. We drove that easy street for a lot longer than I was expecting, to be honest.
> 
> Send me your transport details as soon as you've got them. I can't **wait** to see you.
> 
> _[spark glyph] [spark glyph] [spark glyph]_
> 
> -Barricade

* * *

"Attention, valued passengers. We will be arriving at the Iacon Central Port in a few minutes. Passengers who are disembarking in Iacon, please check your seating area for your personal belongings to ensure you are not leaving any items behind. Passengers who are continuing on to Kalis should remain seated so other passengers may exit the transport more efficiently. Thank you for your cooperation."

Bluestreak peered out the window of the transport, eager for the first glimpse of his new home. The Intra-Planetary Transport Network was efficient and cheap, but travelling through the depths of the planet meant that there wasn't much to see for most of the trip, aside from the few stops they'd made.

With a burst of sudden light, the transport emerged from its tunnel, and Bluestreak's ventilations caught. He'd seen pictures of Iacon, including ones that Barricade had sent him over the last semester, but all of those looked like advertising copy. He hadn't expected the actual city to look as polished and sparkling as the sight he beheld through the transport window.

Praxus was regarded to be the most beautiful city on Cybertron, and pride in his home meant that Bluestreak had always assumed that meant it would also be the most interesting city to see. But his first glimpse of Iacon revealed that he had been so, so wrong. Iacon was huge, and there was so much to see in even his first look at it.

Sweeping towers soared over broad industrial buildings, all interspersed with layers of highways and platforms of buildings upon buildings. A few domes popped up between the towers, places where the more delicate organic species living on Cybertron could remove their rebreathers and relax as they went about their lives. As the transport's track curved, a large blocky building came into view, and Bluestreak immediately recognized it as the Decagon: the seat of local power and information in the city. If his internal maps were correct, the Senate building where Barricade worked was arranged just below the Decagon.

A smile crossed Bluestreak's face at the thought of his friend.

It had been thoughts of seeing Barricade again that had given Bluestreak the encouragement to finalize his transport arrangements. For the last month, Bluestreak had been silently fretting about moving so far away from everything he knew. Once he was living in Iacon, he couldn’t just swing by his mentors' place when he wanted to see them. He wouldn't know his way around. He had to develop new routines and meet new mechs. He was going to be on his own.

Even though Bluestreak was excited for the move and his new job, he was also terrified.

Before leaving Praxus, Bluestreak had spent a full day with his mentors. They loaded him up with extra shanix, gave him a framed photo of the four of them together, and admonished him to comm as often as he could. They also gave him some advice.

"Every mech has a point at which they're truly on their own," Cygnus, his precator, had told him. He hugged Bluestreak tightly. "We are so proud of you, Blue."

Caelum, one of Bluestreak's oraculi, pulled Bluestreak into his own hug. "I know you're scared," Caelum said.

Bluestreak frowned. "I'm not scared," he lied.

Caelum shook his head. "Don't lie to me," he said, flicking Bluestreak's chevron with a finger.

"Ow! Culi!" Bluestreak pressed his hand against his chevron where it stung, and grimaced. "Ok, fine, I'm a little anxious. How did you know?"

"Your wings are doing that quivery thing they do when you're really nervous." Caelum laughed as Bluestreak immediately stilled his wings, and then pulled him into another hug. "If you need **anything** , please let us know right away."

Lightbraid opted to give Bluestreak an affectionate bump on his shoulder with her fist, instead of a hug. "But I know you've got this, Blue," she said. "You've grown into a fine young mech. You're going to do great."

Bluestreak hoped Lightbraid was right.

He sat back in his seat and dutifully began collecting his things. Most of his belongings were being shipped separately for him, and he hadn't brought much with him on the transport: just a few datapads to read, a few cubes of fuel, and some music chipsets to listen to when he didn't feel like reading. Bluestreak knew that the trip would take the better part of two days, but it had felt like he had left Praxus months ago. He wondered if he should have brought more things to entertain himself.

Then again, he'd spent the bulk of the trip worrying over getting himself settled, and pondering over Barricade's pronouncement in his last message that Bluestreak was his 'best friend.' The warm feelings that came over him every time he thought about it had made him overly anxious for the trip to be over, so that he could finally see Barricade face-to-face again.

He'd given Barricade his transport info, but Barricade had said that he would probably be at work when the transport arrived. That was fine; Bluestreak intended to comm Barricade as soon as he'd located his hotel and gotten his bearings.

But when Bluestreak stepped onto the platform in Iacon, he'd only taken a few steps when he heard his name being called. He turned, and saw a black mech with a gold face running towards him.

The surge in his spark he felt when Barricade swept him up into a hug made Bluestreak laugh out loud.

"Cade! What the frag are you doing here? I thought you had to work!" Bluestreak exclaimed when they'd finally disentangled themselves.

Barricade shrugged, grinning broadly. "I traded some shifts to get the afternoon off so I could come catch your transport." He threw his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders and guided him to the exit of the platform. "I decided that I just couldn't wait to see you! And I figured I could take you out for drinks or something when your transport got here, and maybe show you around a bit."

Barricade's arm was a comfortable weight on Bluestreak's shoulder, and he leaned into the darker mech. Now that he was off the transport, the fatigue of the last two days seemed to be catching up with him. Barricade was a welcome support. "I'm glad to see you too, 'Cade," he said. "But... Maybe you could show me to my hotel first."

They'd just exited the station, and Barricade jerked to a halt in the middle of a busy walkway. Ignoring the glares of the mechs behind them for blocking the path, Barricade turned to Bluestreak and looked at him closely. "Your optics are really dim. Didn't you get any recharge on the transport?"

"Not a lot," Bluestreak admitted with a shrug. As Barricade continued to frown at him, he smiled sheepishly. "I mean, I tried to get some recharge, but the motion of the transport kept jostling me back online, and there was a youngling sitting in the seat in front of me who kept turning around to stare at me, and then I'd start drifting off and they'd come by to ask if we wanted fuel service, and my seatmate kept ordering things, and..." He shrugged again. "I did get into standby a few times while listening to music, but I am really low on power, to be honest."

"I can tell," Barricade said. "You've got that sort of dazed look you'd get after staying up all night to cram for an exam." He lifted a finger and brushed it against the side of Bluestreak's head with a thoughtful look before straightening up quickly. "Where's your hotel? I'll make sure you get there safety, and we can just make plans for tomorrow."

"I'm staying at the Azure Plaza Inn," Bluestreak replied, falling in beside Barricade as they started walking again. "On the map it looked pretty close to my new job. I need to stop in there tomorrow, just to say hello, and then I'll need to start looking for someplace to live."

Barricade waved a sensor wing, gently bumping it against one of Bluestreak's. "If you're busy tomorrow during the day, then we can meet in the evening. That's fine." He turned his head to smile at Bluestreak. "I know where your hotel is. It's not too far; we can walk from here so you don't have to deal with the traffic."

Barricade looped his arm around Bluestreak again, this time around his waist. It felt more comfortable than it probably should have, but it also allowed Bluestreak to lean against him even more. "Thank you," Bluestreak said quietly. "You didn't have to do it, but I'm glad you made time to come meet me."

The arm around his waist tightened briefly. "It's my pleasure, Blue," Barricade said. "We've got all the time in the world now that you're here... And I'll always have time for you."


	4. Falling Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting up with Barricade in Iacon, Bluestreak should have known what was going to happen next.

Bluestreak should have known how things would go.

After checking into his hotel, Bluestreak collapsed onto the berth, not even bothering to set an alarm. He'd gotten to his room in early evening, and the sun was just setting. But when he finally came back online, the sun was already up, and he had a message queued from Barricade with directions to a restaurant and a time to meet there.

He hadn't meant to be offline for so long, but it turned out to be a good thing. His energy was back up to optimal levels, and his processor felt clear and sharp again. He felt ready for anything.

After reviewing maps and traffic conditions on the route, Bluestreak drove to his new job at Qhasel Logistics. The owner, a slim A'ovan named Dorgu, greeted him effusively and quickly showed him around the office. His immediate coworkers were a mix of organics and Cybertronians, and Bluestreak spent several hours meeting everyone, setting up the workstation that they'd readied for him, and reading through the material they'd prepared for his orientation. He only left because Dorgu finally shooed him out of the office and told him to come back in two or three days, hopefully after finding someplace to live.

"And what are you doing there, again?" Barricade asked later that night over evening fuel. He picked up one of the gelled energon squares they'd ordered to share and popped it into his mouth. "Something about working with organics?"

"Sort of." Bluestreak glanced up as the serving drone collected their empty glasses. The restaurant Barricade had selected was quiet, and the two of them were seated in a secluded corner booth. If it wasn't for the drone that came by the table on a regular basis, Bluestreak would have thought the place was deserted. "I mean, my capstone project was what got Dorgu's attention, especially since she's looking to diversify her employee base, but she really hired me as a business manager. So I'll be doing budgets, keeping track of inventory, making recommendations for purchasing changes, managing work schedules... You know, all that stuff. She has one manager already but they recently expanded and he can't keep up, so I'll be working closely with him."

Barricade leaned his head on his hand and grimaced. "I'm sorry, but that still sounds unspeakably dull to me. Staring at numbers and figures all day... Ugh." He shook his shoulders, and his sensor wings bobbed in the air behind him. "Math."

Bluestreak smiled. "That boring slag, as you've called it, is what I got my specialization certificate in," he said. "It's what I've been working towards since I got my adult upgrades. It's what I want to do."

"I suppose," Barricade said with a sigh. He leaned back in his seat, locking his hands behind his head. Bluestreak tried not to notice how nicely his arms framed his handsome face. "Are you still thinking about going into business for yourself some day?"

"Yeah, some day," Bluestreak said with a small shrug. "But like I said before, I want some experience first." He smiled at Barricade. "I still haven't forgotten your idea of starting a security firm."

Barricade leaned forward suddenly, grinning. "We could totally do it," he said. "We'd make a great team."

"We would, probably." Bluestreak picked up the last treat from the tray and threw it into his mouth. It was pleasantly sour. "How far have you gotten in your studies? You were talking about signing up for some night courses to complete your specialization."

"Oh. Uh, I haven't made a lot of progress." Barricade glanced away. "I wanted to get my wheels under me first and see how things went here before registering for any classes." He looked at Bluestreak out of the corner of his optic, and his sensor wings tipped downwards. "Things are more expensive here than I was expecting, so I've been working a lot of overtime. I'm always exhausted by the time I get back to my flat. To be honest I haven't even had time to think about night classes."

Bluestreak frowned and leaned forward to put his hand on Barricade's. "I'm sure you could do it if you really wanted to," he said. When Barricade lifted his optics to look at him, Bluestreak smiled. "I believe in you."

Barricade glanced down at Bluestreak's hand, and then flipped his over to enclose Bluestreak's fingers in his. "Thank you," he said. His expression was serious. "That means a lot coming from you."

Bluestreak looked into Barricade's face before replying. "I mean it," he said. When Barricade looked up at him again, Bluestreak added, "You're smart. You've got a good optic for details. You're fast and strong." Bluestreak smiled. "I've looked at what classes you'd need to take to finish your specialization, just because I was curious! And it's stuff you could totally handle if you put your processor to it. I know you could."

As Bluestreak spoke, a small smile crept its way across Barricade's face. "And with you here to help me, I don't see how I could fail."

Bluestreak's spark fluttered slightly as Barricade's smile widened. "I will totally help you, in whatever way I can," Bluestreak said.

Barricade's sensor wings dipped and he glanced away suddenly, his smile softening. Before Bluestreak could say anything, Barricade seemed to gather himself. He looked back up at Bluestreak, his familiar broad grin back on his face. "Say, I promised to show you what the nightlife here was like. How about we settle up here and I take you to one of my favourite bars? They make those drinks with the ridiculously huge garnishes that you like." When Bluestreak laughed, Barricade added, "The bar's about a twenty minute walk from here, or we can drive if you'd prefer."

"That sounds good to me," Bluestreak said. "But, let's walk there. It'll give us more time to talk, and I'll have more time to look around. There's so much to see here!" He pressed the call button on the table. "But I've got the tab for this. I got a little stipend for my moving expenses, and I've hardly used any of it so far. So, this is my treat."

"Fine," Barricade said as the serving drone arrived with their bill. "But then the drinks will be on me."

Barricade had been right when he'd said Iacon was very different from Praxus. For one thing, the streets were far more crowded, even when walking. In Praxus, almost everyone drove or took transports wherever they went. But in Iacon, the pedestrian ways were just as busy as the streets. "Part of it's because there are so many organics here," he said. "But there's also so many different frametypes here, too. Lots more different ones than we'd see in Praxus." He discreetly pointed out a couple of mechs walking in front of them, neither of whom had a ground vehicle mode. "For short distances, with the streets so busy, it's just easier to walk than to wait for a transport."

After they'd walked for several blocks, with Bluestreak ogling the huge buildings and optic-widening variety of aliens everywhere, Barricade tugged on his elbow to steer him onto a side path. "Let's go this way," he said. "It's less crowded, and goes through a nice little park between some of the buildings."

The park turned out to be a softly-lit oasis of benches and crystals arranged in a grid pattern. The noise from the street was muted, and the soft chiming of the crystals helped to further dampen the city's sounds. Bluestreak could only see one other group of mechs on the far side of the park as he and Barricade stopped near one of the larger crystals.

"It's nothing like the Crystal Gardens," Barricade said, "but it reminds me of home. I come here when I'm feeling homesick."

Bluestreak looked up at the tall crystal. "It's beautiful!" he exclaimed. "And you're right, it's like a little piece of Praxus here in Iacon." He pointed up at the crystal as it shimmered in its spotlight. "Look, you can see the root point near the top still. This must be a fresh crystal. Do you know if they replace them often?"

When he looked back at Barricade, though, the golden-faced mech wasn't looking at the crystal. Instead, Barricade was looking right at him in a way that made Bluestreak's spark flutter.

"Cade?" Bluestreak watched Barricade's optics for a moment before smiling. "What are you looking at?"

"You." Barricade's trademark grin flashed onto his face for a moment before vanishing again. His wings flicked behind him nervously. "Blue... Before I left Praxus, you said that you thought of me as more than a friend. Do you... Do you still feel that way?"

Bluestreak felt some place inside of him go soft and wobbly, and he realized that he was nodding. Barricade was standing so close to him that Bluestreak could feel the light breeze from Barricade's vents on his face. "Yeah," Bluestreak said. He searched Barricade's face, looking for any sign of what the dark mech was thinking. "I do. In fact, I... I don't think I've stopped thinking about you since you left Praxus."

Barricade's hand touched the side of Bluestreak's head, and his thumb traced down the side of his helm vent. "Good," Barricade said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I don't think I've stopped thinking about you, either."

And then Barricade leaned forward and brushed his lips against Bluestreak's.

The touch of Barricade's lips felt gentle, almost shy. They felt softer than Bluestreak had imagined, all those nights alone in his dorm room in his last semester in Praxus, when Overcast was off at Strikeback's place, with Bluestreak's hands roaming his own body as he imagined the caress of one particular black-plated mech.

It must have been just a few seconds of contact, barely even a slight brush of lips against lips, before Barricade started to pull away from Bluestreak. Perhaps he wanted to check if this was permitted or wanted, or wanted to say something to Bluestreak (maybe something funny or self-depreciating, knowing Barricade), but Bluestreak followed Barricade. He chased after Barricade's mouth for a moment before grabbing Barricade's head between both hands and pressing their lips together forcefully.

After thinking about this moment for almost a full year, Bluestreak knew he didn't want to let it end so soon.

Barricade made a soft noise, something between a squeak of surprise and a moan of desire, before his own hands cupped the sides of Bluestreak's head and he returned the kiss. It was hard, almost painful in its force, but both of them opened their mouths to the other to claim and let themselves be claimed.

Bluestreak wasn't sure how long they stood there, arms wrapped around each other and bumpers clashing against plating, but they both jerked their heads backwards at a high-pitched hoot from across the park. "Save some for the rest of us!" one of the mechs called, his voice echoing off the buildings that rose around the park. The other mechs walking with the heckler laughed when Barricade threw them a rude gesture.

"Frag off!" Barricade yelled back. The other mechs laughed again, but they began to wander away towards the far exit of the park.

"It's all right," Bluestreak said with a quiet laugh. "I guess we **were** making a bit of a spectacle of ourselves." He was keenly aware of the whir of his cooling fans, but it took a moment for him to realize that Barricade's fans were spinning just as fast.

"They still could have minded their own business," Barricade said. His voice was low, and his engine growled under his words, but he stilled when he looked at Bluestreak again. "So, uh..." All trace of the bravado he'd just displayed evaporated when he met Bluestreak's gaze. "Was that... all right?" he asked, his expression and tone suddenly very serious.

Bluestreak laughed again and leaned against Barricade. He pressed another kiss to Barricade's lips, fast and hard, trying to convey everything he was feeling in a brief touch. "It was perfect," Bluestreak said. He smiled when he saw Barricade's sensor wings flutter slightly. "Even with an audience."

Barricade relaxed, leaning on Bluestreak just as much as Bluestreak was leaning on him. "Good," he said. He brushed his thumb down the side of Bluestreak's face again. "Because I've been wanting to do that ever since I first saw you in class."

"Ever since..." Bluestreak stared at Barricade for a moment in surprise before throwing his head back with a laugh. "But that was years ago! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you made it clear that you weren't looking for anything. I mean..." Barricade seemed to regain his confidence, wrapping an arm around Bluestreak's shoulder as they turned to walk down the pathway again. "After all, you were not impressed at all by my best pick up line!"

"Trading paint was your best pick up line?" Bluestreak asked, shaking his head.

"No!" Barricade stopped to stare at Bluestreak in mock surprise. "I said you'd been driving through my thoughts all night." When Bluestreak laughed one more, Barricade pulled him close as they began to walk once more. "But that was only partially true. I'd really been thinking about you since that first class. I just..." Barricade shrugged. "I just never got up the nerve."

"You've always seemed so confident and sure of yourself. I find it hard to believe that you couldn't get up the nerve to ask me out, for real," Bluestreak said. "You do so many other things impulsively... Getting into bar fights. Dropping out of school and moving to Iacon. It just seems weird that you didn't just say you were interested in me right away." He pushed his shoulder against Barricade's playfully. When Barricade didn't reply, Bluestreak glanced at him. Barricade was staring ahead. "Why didn't you?"

Barricade shrugged and didn't say anything. When Bluestreak nudged him again, Barricade sighed. "You're going to think this sounds dumb."

It was Bluestreak's turn to stop. "I promise I won't," he said.

Barricade tipped his head back to look up at the next crystal they'd stopped at. "I'm afraid of having my spark broken." He gave Bluestreak a sidelong glance before looking back up at the crystal. "When I fall for someone, I fall hard. I've had some bad breakups. They were really tough on me." He sighed, his door wings bobbing up and down. "So now, when I find someone I might be interested in, I try to go slow." He finally turned to look at Bluestreak again. "By the time I realized that I really cared for you... By the time that I realized I'd ended up falling for you anyway..." Barricade touched the side of Bluestreak's face. "By the time I knew all that, I also knew that you weren't interested in dating."

Bluestreak frowned. He knew that focusing his attention on his studies had been the right thing to do. It gave him the time and concentration he needed to get the marks he wanted. But now, knowing that he could have been with Barricade this whole time, Bluestreak had a brief pang of regret.

Oh well. Nothing like trying to make up for lost time.

"Well," Bluestreak said, taking one of Barricade's hands in his. "I'm interested now." He brought Barricade's hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. The sudden flare of brightness in Barricade's optics made that place inside him go soft and wobbly again.

Barricade's mouth fell open slightly at the kiss before he closed it with a click of his dentae. "So, uh..." Then his grin was back, lighting up his face. "I know we were going over to that bar I told you about, but my place is just a few blocks further. I wouldn't be able to do all those silly drinks you like, but the high grade would be a lot cheaper than at the bar. And my place is definitely less crowded than the bar." He tipped a wing upwards. "So how about it?"

Yes, Bluestreak definitely should have known how things would go that night.

Barricade's place was small, like he'd described it to Bluestreak in their messages and comms. He folded up the berth into a couch when they arrived, flicked on the entertainment unit to a comedy show that Barricade said was pretty good, and got out the few bottles of high grade and some glasses.

He kept apologizing for the state of his flat, but Bluestreak insisted he didn't care. And he didn't. The place was incredibly small, but it was just fine for sitting together and talking. The high grade Barricade had certainly wasn't top-quality stuff, but it was just as good as the stuff that they'd probably have gotten at a bar. (And to be honest, Bluestreak's tastes weren't all that refined anyway.) The comedy show was amusing and a little stupid, but it quickly faded into background noise as the two mechs continued catching up. And the couch was fairly comfortable, especially when they sat close together.

Sitting close together made it easier to touch each other. And to kiss. And to explore the plating and joints and cables of a friend that they'd each known for years, finding the places that made engines rev and optics brighten.

The couch was even more comfortable when Barricade folded it back out to a berth. And yes, the berth was small, too, but there was enough room for Bluestreak to kiss his way down the length of Barricade's body. And as Bluestreak's glossa carefully laved the folds and mesh of Barricade's valve, Barricade's loud whimpers were lost in the sound of the canned laughter from the entertainment unit.

Considering the thin walls of Barricade's flat, it was probably a good thing that they'd left the show on. When Bluestreak's lifted Barricade's hips and slid his spike into the dark mech's sopping valve, the sound that Barricade made would probably have been embarrassing to explain to the neighbours, if they'd been listening.

After Bluestreak shuddered through his overload, one hand gripping Barricade's hip and the other braced on the surface of the berth beside Barricade's bumper, he slumped down on top of his friend (no, his lover, how quickly these things can change) for a moment before curling up against his side. He wrapped an arm around Barricade's waist and kissed his way up his chinguard to his audial. Another peal of laughter rang from the entertainment unit, and Bluestreak echoed it. "I was going to turn that thing off because the laugh track was giving me a performance complex, but I think the applause just made things better," Bluestreak murmured. "Everyone needs a personal cheering section."

Barricade laughed, turning his head and catching Bluestreak's lips with his own. "I'll be part of that cheering section any time you want, Blue," Barricade said. His thumb rubbed a small circle on Bluestreak's cheek and he smiled softly. "That was fantastic."

"You know, I was feeling a bit sad that we'd waited this long to finally sort our slag out and get together," Bluestreak said. He kissed Barricade again. "But now I know it was a good thing. You would have been an utterly devastating distraction from my school work."

Flashing his dentae in a wide grin, Barricade rolled slightly so that Bluestreak was under him instead of the other way around. "I **can** be a bit of a handful, or so I've heard," Barricade said. He rested his head on Bluestreak's shoulder and lazily traced a finger around one of Bluestreak's headlights. "And I was thinking the same thing, wishing that one of us had spoken up earlier. But like you said, that might not have been for the best." He leaned forward to slide the tip of his nasal ridge up the edge of Bluestreak's jawline, stopping to nuzzle Bluestreak's helm vent. "This worked out for us. We've both got good jobs, and we're in the same city. Who knows what might have happened otherwise?"

Bluestreak looked up at the stained ceiling, enjoying Barricade's gentle touches. His optics dimmed as Barricade's fingers slipped under his bumper. "I've got a good job, yeah. But tomorrow I really need to start looking for someplace to live," Bluestreak said. "I got enough money for a week at the hotel, and after that I'm on my own. Dorgu would probably give me an advance on my wages, but-"

Barricade sat up suddenly and looked straight down at Bluestreak. "You could move in with me!"

Refocusing his optics from the dirty ceiling to Barricade's face, Bluestreak smiled. "No offense, Barricade, but this place is barely big enough for one mech, let alone two."

"It would just be temporary," Barricade said. His sensor wings waved behind him as he leaned on Bluestreak's chest. "With two salaries we'd have a lot more choice of where to live. We could split expenses, share fuel costs, and – I mean, we **might** even be able to afford a place with two bedrooms."

Bluestreak looked at Barricade as he tried to recall some of the residential listings he'd seen before boarding his transport to Iacon. "And if we can't get a place with two bedrooms?" he asked. "You want me to move in and share a berth with you all the time?"

"Yeah!" Barricade exclaimed. He planted a kiss right in the middle of Bluestreak's chest before grinning at him again. "I think it's a great idea." He kissed lower, his optics flashing up to Bluestreak's with a sly look. "Just think..." His glossa grazed the edge of Bluestreak's headlight before he kissed his way across the bumper to the opposite headlight. "You could have this..." His glossa circled the other headlight, drawing an involuntary groan from Bluestreak. "...all the time."

"I can't do that!" Bluestreak said, but he arched upwards into Barricade's touches, placing his hand on the back of Barricade's head. "I mean, we just had our first date. I can't move in with you just yet."

Barricade stopped his probe of Bluestreak's undercarriage and looked up at him again. "Is this one of those Bluestreak rules?" he asked. "No moving in after just one date?"

"Something like that," Bluestreak said. He gasped when Barricade's fingers found a sensitive cable beneath his plating. "It wouldn't be – ah! – proper."

"Is 'facing on the first date proper, then?" Barricade asked. He kissed his way back up Bluestreak's chest as his fingers pulled on that cable again, and he grinned when Bluestreak bucked under him. "Because those noises you're making don't sound very proper." He bit down on the mesh of Bluestreak's neck, ripping a moan from the grey Praxian. "And moving in together just makes sense."

Bluestreak clung to Barricade as he felt a hand slide across his hip, down his pelvis, and skim across the surface of his valve. "I admit you're making a good argument," he panted, and bit back another moan as Barricade's fingers slid through his slick folds again to brush against his anterior node. "L-let me think about it?"

"Sure," Barricade said, nuzzling the side of Bluestreak's head again. "But let me give you a few more arguments in favour of it."

Bluestreak let out another moan as Barricade's fingers plunged into his valve. He wasn't sure whether the laugh track from the comedy show was loud enough to cover up the noises he was making, but within a few more minutes he didn't really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you have a good and safe holiday season. ❤


	5. Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak takes Barricade up on his offer to move in with him, and the two of them grow even closer.

Barricade was right. It **did** make sense for them to move in together.

Bluestreak spent the next few days looking at available housing units. If possible, the housing situation was even worse than Barricade had described. Units that met all of Bluestreak's criteria were snapped up almost as quickly as they became available. In one instance, Bluestreak saw a listing get posted, and by the time he placed a comm to the agent (just minutes later!) it had been rented already.

What was available for more than a few moments were unsuitable in some way or another. If they were within Bluestreak's price range, then they were even smaller than Barricade's, or they were run down, or they were in one of the neighbourhoods that Barricade had warned Bluestreak about. If they were a decent size or were properly maintained, they were too expensive. And while Bluestreak could have found a place that met most of his conditions for a price he could afford on the outskirts of Iacon, Bluestreak knew that he'd be spending almost every free waking moment driving to and from work or sitting on a transport.

"Told you," Barricade said after swallowing the mouthful of fuel he had. They were sitting on Barricade's berth (where Bluestreak seemed to be spending a lot of his free time, to be honest) and fueling. That's something else that Barricade had been right about: the cost of eating out was a lot higher in Iacon, too. Barricade had warmed some fuel for them in his prep area, and they were both looking through housing unit listings. "It's completely ridiculous. Someone said it wasn't nearly as bad before they expanded the eco-dome when the Povians arrived. I guess they had to knock down a bunch of existing towers to make room for that. But that was a few hundred years ago. You'd think there would be more housing built to replace what was lost by now." Barricade tabbed through a few more listings on his datapad. "How about this one? It's got one bedroom and – oh, never mind, it's gone."

Bluestreak's engine grumbled. "I have to start work tomorrow. I thought for sure I'd have someplace to live by now." He knocked back the last of his fuel and set his cube on the table beside him. "I even stopped by work to see if anyone there had some ideas. Dorgu offered to give me an advance on my salary for a security deposit, but I'll said no. I'll need that money later to get all of my utilities set up." He paused on a listing that looked promising before he realized that it was priced as a single, but the mechs (plural!) living there were just looking for a roommate. He wasn't about to move in with a bunch of strangers, especially not into a one bedroom unit. If he was going to move in with someone, it might as well be...

Bluestreak looked at Barricade and blew a gust of air from his vents. "Ok. Fine. You're right."

"Of course I'm right," Barricade said. He looked up from his datapad. "What am I right about?"

"About moving in with you. It makes sense." Bluestreak gestured at his datapad. "I can't find anything that would work for me." He looked at Barricade and tipped a sensor wing upwards. "If the offer still stands, that is."

Barricade's face broke out into a grin. "Of course the offer still stands!" He threw his datapad on the berth beside him and wrapped his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. "I wouldn't leave you to recharge out on the street."

At that moment, they heard the door slam on the unit next door, followed by heavy pede steps and a thump of something being dropped onto the floor. Then came a sudden blare of music, coming through the wall as if it was only a thin curtain.

"But maybe we could... I don't know, find someplace else?" Bluestreak glanced up at the stained celling that he'd noticed his first night in Barricade's flat. "Maybe someplace that's a little bit nicer?"

"What? You don't like my palatial accommodations? I haven't even gotten a chance to show you my pet cyber-roaches," Barricade said, walking his fingers up Bluestreak's arm in a skittering motion.

"What?!" Bluestreak pulled his feet off the floor, and looked down anxiously. He **thought** he'd felt something crawl on him the other night. "You didn't say anything about cyber-roaches!" When Barricade laughed, Bluestreak looked up at him. "Please tell me you're joking."

Barricade shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe it's better if I don't answer that." He reached over and picked up his datapad again. "But look... With two salaries, we'd be in a much better position and have a lot more options." He tipped his pad so Bluestreak could see it, and brought up a whole page of listings. "I looked at some of these places when I moved here at the beginning of the year, but there was no way I could swing the rent." He smiled at Bluestreak. "Should I send these agents a comm and set up some viewings after your shift tomorrow?"

In just a few days they managed to find a flat that suited both of them. It was almost exactly halfway between their workplaces. It only had one bedroom, but it was spacious enough for a large berth. And it had been recently renovated, with freshly polished walls, a brand new fuel warmer, and a wash rack that was large enough for two.

They put the wash rack to test the first night they moved in. Bluestreak decided that interfacing under a stream of hot solvent was totally worth the cost of the flat.

With his housing situation settled, Bluestreak was able to turn all of his attention to his work. Dorgu turned out to be a tough but reasonable boss, expecting hard work from her employees but treating them fairly in return. The other business manager was also A'ovan, and was one of Dorgu's mates. After Joal showed Bluestreak how everything was set up, Bluestreak made a few suggestions for changes to the business. When the changes were accepted, implemented, and shown to improve how things were done, Dorgu was effusive in her thanks. At the end of the fiscal year, after Bluestreak had been there for only about six months, she showed her thanks by giving Bluestreak a small bonus.

"You help me. I help you. Is equitable," Dorgu said, her real voice almost inaudible over the hissing of her rebreather and the Cybertronian translator built into it. The slim organic petted Bluestreak on his chest plating, something that Bluestreak had quickly grown used to: the A'ovan were a very tactile species and often touched each other when speaking. "I foresee great things. You are asset. I am lucky to have you. Qhasel Logistics lucky to have you. "

"Thank you very much," Bluestreak said, swiveling his sensor wings behind him in a grateful gesture. "I'm hoping that I'll have many more opportunities to help you succeed." He held his hands together in the A'ovan expression of thanks.

When Bluestreak offered part of his bonus to enroll Barricade in night courses so that he could finish his specialization, though, the dark mech frowned. "I don't want you spending your shanix on me like that," he said. Barricade looked away, into the dim light of the restaurant they were at to celebrate Bluestreak's windfall. "You just moved here. You earned that. You should spend it on something **you** want."

"Well, I **want** to help you. I told you that I'd help you in any way that I can," Bluestreak said insistently. "And that includes financially. I know you were basically living deposit to deposit before we moved in together, which is why you were working so much overtime." He leaned across the table, trying to keep Barricade's wandering gaze fixed on him. "With this shanix, you won't have to work so much overtime, and you'll have more time and energy to take those classes." When Barricade finally focused his optics on Bluestreak, Bluestreak smiled at him. "You're the most important mech in my life right now. I would do anything to help you succeed."

Barricade's sensor wings finally rose to his shoulders from where they'd been slumped, and – adorably – quivered just slightly. "I'm the most important?" he asked.

"Well, yeah." Bluestreak felt his face flush slightly, but he grabbed at Barricade's hand. This was something he'd been wanting to say for a while. "You are. You've gone from classmate to friend to best friend to lover to..." Bluestreak gave Barricade's hand a squeeze. "I love you."

Barricade stared at Bluestreak with wide optics for a moment before ducking his head and grinning. "You're a slagger, you know that?" He looked back up at Bluestreak. "I've been wanting to say that to you for months, but I was afraid of saying it too soon. I didn't want to scare you off." He lifted Bluestreak's hand to his mouth and kissed it. "But... I love you, too."

Bluestreak felt the flush from his face spread through his body. Whether it was happiness or relief, or a mix of both, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he'd finally told Barricade how he felt (how he'd felt since before he'd graduated, if he wanted to be perfectly honest) and Barricade reciprocated.

He wondered how he could have gotten so lucky.

"We need to make a pact," Bluestreak said seriously. "We have this history of not saying things we want to say because we're afraid of how the other will react. We need to just say it, you know? Because things could have been so much different if one of us had just spoken up while we were in school."

"It worked out," Barricade said easily, but his grin softened to the smile that Bluestreak had learned Barricade reserved just for him. "And as for the classes... Give me one more year," he said. "I'm still carrying some debt from my move here. I can work less overtime now that rent's not sucking up most of my pay, but I'll still work some so I can pad out my savings a bit. Then, once I've paid off my debts, I'll start on those classes." He reached across the table and grabbed Bluestreak's hand. "I promise."

Bluestreak smiled. "All right," he said. "But I'm going to hold you to that."

* * *

Barricade was true to his word. About a year and a half after Bluestreak moved to Iacon, Barricade registered for two night classes at a branch of the Iacon School of Applied Functions that had a campus near their home. Barricade was still working rotating shifts, but he was granted the accommodation to attend his classes two nights a week. In fact, Barricade's supervisor seemed pleased that he was looking to advance himself. "He said that I show a lot of promise," Barricade told Bluestreak after he'd told his supervisor that he wanted to finish his specialization certificate. "He said that I could be a lot more than just a grunt with a gun."

"I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one who thinks highly of you," Bluestreak had said, giving Barricade a soft kiss. "You're smarter than you let on."

"Well, don't let that get around," Barricade said with a laugh. "I've got a reputation to maintain."

They had settled into a routine by the time Barricade's classes started, but the classes fit into their schedule with only some minor adjustments. For Bluestreak, his days meant waking with his alarm. If Barricade was working days, they'd wake together, take fuel together, and leave the flat together, driving off in different directions to their workplaces. Those were the days that Bluestreak didn't see Barricade until late in the evening, after he finished his classes. If Barricade was working nights, Barricade would just be coming home from his shift as Bluestreak was leaving for work, but he would see him again when he got home. And if Barricade was working afternoons, Barricade either slipped into their berth while Bluestreak was recharging or he recharged on the couch, and Bluestreak tried to leave as silently as Barricade had come in.

It wasn't elegant, but their arrangement worked. After all, they knew it was relatively temporary. Barricade spent most of his free time studying, and Bluestreak helped him review for tests when their schedules aligned. Even when there were no tests for him to study for, Barricade enjoyed just having Bluestreak nearby. Barricade would do his coursework while Bluestreak would quietly read or work on reports for Dorgu. After all, it wasn't as though they had extra money to spend on frivolous things: every shanix was accounted for in their budget. But those evenings gave them an opportunity to spend some time together while still doing something productive.

It was during one of those study sessions that Barricade tapped his stylus on his datapad. When Bluestreak looked up from his work, Barricade asked, "When you say someone is kind, what does that mean to you?"

Bluestreak set his report aside and turned on the couch to face Barricade. "Is this for your Criminal Psychology class?" he asked.

Barricade nodded. "Yeah. We're just going over basic descriptions of personality types and... I got to thinking about something." His crimson optics narrowed for a moment as he looked at Bluestreak. "So... 'Kind'. What makes someone kind?"

Bluestreak thought for a moment. "Someone who is understanding. Empathic and sympathetic. Someone who considers others' feelings. Someone who's well-intentioned." He shrugged. "I don't know. Nice!" Bluestreak lifted a sensor wing towards Barricade. "Is this about nice criminals?" he asked with a smile.

"No," Barricade said with a soft laugh. "I was just thinking about something you said a long time ago." He lowered his head, but glanced at Bluestreak out of the corner of his optic. "You said that one of the most important things to you in a relationship was finding someone who's kind. So... I was just wondering if I qualified."

Bluestreak leaned over and rested his hand on Barricade's arm. "I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't think you qualified," he said.

Barricade looked up at Bluestreak, and grabbed his hand. "All right. Good." He kissed Bluestreak's fingers and smiled. "I figured that's what you'd say, but... I wanted to make sure."

Bluestreak laughed. "I'm the one who can't make up his mind about things," he said. He softened his expression. "But yes... I'm sure."

By the end of the semester, Barricade had a credit towards his specialization certificate. To celebrate, Bluestreak took Barricade out to a very nice restaurant – his treat. "You got top marks!" Bluestreak had said when Barricade protested the expense. "I said I would do anything I could do support you, and that includes celebrating your successes!" After dinner, they decided to walk to the park that Barricade had shown Bluestreak when he'd first arrived in Iacon.

Bluestreak hung on Barricade's arm as they entered the park. He looked around at the now-familiar setting, enjoying the quiet chiming of the crystals. Only half of the lights in the park were on to save energy; the city had been trying to cut back on fuel expenses wherever it could. But there was still enough light to see the crystals. "Look," Bluestreak said, pointing at a new crystal that had been erected near the edge of the park. "They finally replaced that one that had gone still."

As they made their way over to the new crystal, Barricade's door wings flicked out. "Neat," he said as they reached the base of the crystal. "It looks like they're using this one to nurture some cleavings." Sure enough, a small cluster of shards were sunk into growing medium just below the larger, fully grown crystal.

"That's a great idea!" Bluestreak said. He leaned over the railing to get a closer look at the cleavings. "Growing their own is probably a lot cheaper than bringing them in from Praxus. We handle some of the city's shipping contracts at work, and transporting fully grown crystals costs a fortune. They're really delicate and need special handling." He slid a bit to the side, bumping into Barricade as he tried to look at the other side of one of the cleavings. "I hope these ones take. They should; they just need the resonance of the larger crystal to help them grow. Sort of like a new build with its mentors, I guess."

Bluestreak felt Barricade's hand fall onto his shoulder. "What do you think about new builds?" Barricade asked.

Barricade's tone was very carefully neutral in the way that Bluestreak had come to associate with the dark mech being nervous about a topic of conversation. He looked up at Barricade to see his gold face reflecting the light from the crystal's spotlight. "What about new builds?" Bluestreak asked.

"Do you think you might want one of your own?" Barricade asked. His red optics were fixed on Bluestreak's.

Bluestreak pushed himself up from the railing and shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Once I'm trined, I guess? I figured that we could discuss it then. I honestly haven't given it a lot of thought." He leaned on the railing. "But based on your expression, I'm guessing that you have," he added with a smile.

"Yeah," Barricade said with a shrug. "I know I've mentioned it before, but I've always wanted to be a mentor. It's really important to me." He tipped his head to the side. "So, is the trine thing a must-have? Would you consider it if you were just in a pair?"

"I'm not sure," Bluestreak said with a frown. "It's just how I always imagined it. I mean, it's how I was raised, by my mentors. They were trined, and it was great. There was always someone around for me. Even when everyone was busy, if I needed something, one of them would drop what they were doing to help me. It's what I would want for a new build if I was ever part of an application for a mentee." He smiled at Barricade. "But I know you were raised by a pair."

Barricade nodded. "I was. And that worked for us." He reached out and took Bluestreak's hand in his. "Blue... If I promised that we would go and look for a third eventually, would you considering bonding with me now? As a pair?"

Bluestreak's mouth dropped open for a moment before he regained control of his reaction.

Bonding. With Barricade. Now.

It was the next logical step in their relationship, but somehow it didn't seem like something they should be allowed to do, not yet. It felt too serious. It was too adult. It was too **final**.

Then again, they'd known each other for almost five years. They'd been living together (and interfacing) for almost two years. Bluestreak tried to remember how long his mentor trine had lived together before they'd bonded. He'd have to ask Cygnus the next time his mentors commed him.

But what made a good bond mate? He and Barricade got along well. All of their little arguments had been about minor things. They listened to each other. They respected each other. They made time for each other. And they loved each other. That was something Bluestreak knew with absolute truth: they loved each other dearly.

So why **shouldn't** they bond?

Bluestreak had always pictured himself as part of a trine, someday. But sometimes trines started off as pairs. In fact, more and more of them did, nowadays. And if he was going to pair up, Barricade would be the perfect candidate for that. Maybe...

His attention was wrenched back to Barricade as the dark mech's sensor wings drooped slightly. "I know I'm springing this on you suddenly. And I don't have a gift for you. I could get on my knees if you want but... I just thought the moment felt right. But if you don't want to, I'd understand, and-"

"No! It's not that." Bluestreak tipped his sensor wings up slightly and tried to collect his thoughts. "It's just that I... I don't know," Bluestreak said with a stammer. "That's not very traditional. I mean, I know some trines pair and then find a third, but when I thought about it I always imagined all three of us bonding together at once. After all, that's how my mentors did it, so I just thought I would do the same thing. But some pairs work just fine, like you said. It's just not what I pictured for myself. On the other hand, my precator keeps asking about you. I think he's been waiting for us to move onto something more serious. I keep waiting for him to ask when we're finally going to take the next step, but he's always been a romantic, and... " Bluestreak's optics swept Barricade's face, watching a smile slowly grow on the dark mech's lips. "What?" Bluestreak asked.

Barricade's growing smile finally cracked into a grin. "I love watching you try to sort out a problem verbally," he said. He pulled Bluestreak into a hug and kissed the crest in the middle of his chevron. "Look, if you don't feel comfortable bonding right now, we don't have to do it now."

"I didn't say no," Bluestreak said softly, and he felt Barricade's embrace tighten around him. He rested his head against Barricade's for a moment before looking into Barricade's optics. "But, Cade... What's the rush? Why bond now?"

Barricade lifted his hands to hold Bluestreak's head between them. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me," Barricade said. His optics darted around Bluestreak's face. "I want to make sure that you don't slip away." 

Bluestreak smiled when Barricade's optics finally settled on his own. "Don't worry," Bluestreak murmured. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"I know," Barricade said. He smiled softly. "But I also cannot wait to know you even better than I do now. And I want you to know me in the same way." He squeezed Bluestreak's hands. "And you know that patience has never been one of my strengths."

"That is something I am quite aware of," Bluestreak said with a laugh. Then he looked into Barricade's optics again earnestly. "But I want to trine. It's something that I've always dreamed of. It's something I feel like I need, in here." Bluestreak touched his chest over his spark. "So promise me that we **will** find a third."

Barricade nodded solemnly. "I know you want a trine. I know that's traditional, and it's what you were brought up with. I know that's important to you, just like becoming a mentor is important to me. So I promise that we'll look for a third, as soon as we feel ready."

Nodding, Bluestreak said, "And I promise that when we've found a third, once we're settled, we'll apply to Vector Sigma for a new build." When Barricade nodded again, his sensor wings fluttering behind him, Bluestreak pressed a kiss to Barricade's cheek. "In that case... I do love you, Cade. Nothing will change that. And I will bond with you."

Barricade grinned and pulled Bluestreak against him tightly. "Thank you," he whispered. "I love you, too."


	6. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade bond.

It wasn't what Bluestreak had planned for himself, but it worked anyway. Maybe Overcast had been right: sometimes you just needed to follow your spark.

Bluestreak had been a bit concerned about what his mentors would think of Barricade. They'd only met him once, back when they were both attending Lower Praxus University. Fortunately, all three of Bluestreak's mentors liked Barricade, and gave the couple their congratulations when they contacted them by holovid to give them the news.

"Time goes by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday we were watching you rise out of the forging pool," Cygnus said. The distortion in the connection gave his voice a slight warble that made it sound like he was about to start crying. Although, considering how Caelum patted Cygnus on the shoulder comfortingly, maybe he really was about to burst into tears.

"I'm almost two centuries old, Cator," Bluestreak said with a smile.

"I know, I know," Cygnus said, leaning back against Caelum. He cycled his vents noisily. "And I was wondering when the two of you would finally work out that you're good for each other."

"But are you really going to bond right away, rather than looking for a third?" Caelum asked after Cygnus seemed to get himself under control. "Are you sure you don't want to wait? There's no rush, you know."

At that, Cygnus made a scoffing noise. "Oh, Caelum, it's the modern way," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "All of the new builds are doing it that way now. Pair up, get that all sorted, and then look for a compatible third." He glanced up at Caelum, then at Lightbraid, and smiled. "If we'd gone that path, maybe we might not have had so many rough patches."

"Did he just call us new builds?" Barricade whispered into Bluestreak's audial, and Bluestreak elbowed him in the side.

"We're sure we want to do this now," Bluestreak said, answering Caelum's question.

He was sure. He was pretty sure, anyway.

Fairly sure.

 **Mostly** sure.

Then Bluestreak looked at Barricade, and any questions about how sure he might or might not be evaporated.

He was **absolutely** sure that he wanted to do this.

Lightbraid was leaning into the hologrid on the other side of Caelum. She frowned and said, "Do you need anything? I know Barricade was taking some classes, and that was eating into your finances. How much are you spending on your bonding ceremony?"

"And when are we getting our invitation?" Cygnus asked.

"We aren't planning on having a big ceremony or any guests," Barricade said. When Bluestreak's mentors all began to protest loudly, he held up his hands placatingly. "We're just going to have it overseen by a commissioner at the Decagon, with a few friends as witnesses." He flashed one of his smiles that Bluestreak remembered from school, when Barricade was trying to get on a faculty member's good side. "Besides, like we said, we're going to look for a third. We figured we could have the big ceremony then."

"And we will definitely send you an invitation to that," Bluestreak told his mentors.

While Bluestreak's mentors were full of questions about their upcoming union, Barricade's mentors simply seemed pleased that Barricade had found a partner. "It's about time!" Redjaw crowed. He turned to Sidewire and thumped him on the shoulder "I told you the two of them were going to pair up!"

Sidewire was a bit less effusive than Redjaw, but still gave them a smile and his congratulations. "I wish you two nothing but love and good luck," he said quietly. He leveled a gaze at Bluestreak and added, "Don't let Barricade give you any sass. He can be a bit of a handful sometimes."

Bluestreak laughed and looked at Barricade fondly. "I know," he said. When Barricade returned the smile, Bluestreak felt his spark quiver in excitement. He hugged Barricade close to him as he turned back to the holovid. "And I wouldn't have him any other way."

So a month later, Bluestreak was bonded for the first time. Instead of a formal ceremony, held in the Praxus Citadel in the presence of a Praxian cleric like he'd always pictured, Bluestreak found himself standing in front of a commissioner in the Iacon Decagon. Instead of being surrounded by his mentors and friends, he and Barricade had invited a single witness each. Tankor, one of Barricade's friends from work, stood at his side, while Dorgu stood beside Bluestreak.

It was not what Bluestreak had imagined for himself, but he decided that it suited them. Nothing else in their relationship had been traditional, or had followed the plans Bluestreak had made for himself when he first got his adult upgrades. Why should their bonding break that streak?

As Barricade spoke the short vows of dedication that they'd written together, Bluestreak noticed that Barricade's optics never strayed from his. And when Bluestreak repeated the vows, Barricade's grip on his hands felt firm and reassuring.

Bluestreak felt a vague sense of uncertainty when the commissioner stepped back. "Do you wish to stand, kneel, or be seated to be bonded?" he asked. "We do not recommend standing for first time bond mates," he added with a quirk of his lips.

"I want to kneel," Bluestreak said quickly. He looked at Barricade and smiled, trying to hide his nervousness with a flutter of his wings. "You kneel when you're bonded in the Praxus Citadel, so that's what I want."

"Sure," Barricade said easily, and Bluestreak felt the misgivings slide away from him once more.

Once they were comfortably kneeling, their witnesses standing behind them and the commissioner kneeling alongside them, Barricade opened his wrist panel and drew out a data cable. "Do you want to do this yourself, or do you want me to do it?" he asked. Barricade's sensor wings sat low on his back, and his optics were solemn.

"You do it," Bluestreak said. He waited while Barricade plugged his cable into the medical port on Bluestreak's neck. His fingers were warm against Bluestreak's neck cables, and he felt the connection light up when the cable slid into the port. Then Bluestreak pulled out his own wrist cable. Before he could even hold it up and ask, Barricade tipped his head to the side, baring his medical port on the side of his neck.

They repeated the process with the other sets of cables in their opposite wrists. With each connection, Bluestreak could feel Barricade's presence grow on the other side of the link. Bluestreak had taken a very basic course in emergency repairs in university, so he was familiar with the sensation. But knowing what they were about to do made everything seem hypersensitive... Including his doubts.

He felt another stab of uncertainty. This was it. This was his last moment to back out. A bond could be undone, of course, but how could he do that to Barricade when he knew how much Barricade wanted this?

Bluestreak stared down at his hands and the cables coming out of his wrists, wishing that he could have some sign of what he should do. He had never been a religious mech, but he closed his optics and sent a prayer to whatever deity might be listening. _Primus? If you're there, please tell me if this is the right thing to do._

Then Barricade's hands slipped into Bluestreak's. He lifted his head to look at Barricade, and saw the handsome, golden-faced mech smile at him in the way that always made Bluestreak's knees go weak. As Barricade squeezed his hands gently, their data cables brushed against each other with his movement. The sensation sent a shiver through Bluestreak's lines.

"You can run the bonding sequence when you're ready," the commissioner said.

A requestor appeared on Bluestreak's HUD, indicating that Barricade had initiated the bonding sequence. Bluestreak wondered if he'd done it before the commissioner had even said anything. Pulling up his own locked bonding scripts, Bluestreak approved all of the requests and then initiated his own sequence.

Bluestreak knew about the mechanics of bonding, of course. He had learned about the voluntary connection between sparks, synched together at a quantum level. He had been taught about the risks of joining yourself to another in this way – the pain of separation, the loss of self some mechs felt after bonding - but he'd also learned about the benefits. He'd learned about the comfort of always having someone who understood how you felt at a spark-deep level, and the emotional support that bond mates provided to each other in times of need.

He had also read descriptions of what bonding felt like when it happened. He'd seen plenty of movies that depicted that connection in various ways, and he'd read dozens of books in which the characters bonded. It was always described as a merging of two into one, or of a swirl of light, or an explosion of sensation that had to be sorted out into its component pieces before it could be understood.

Bluestreak wasn't quite prepared for how **wrong** all of those descriptions had been.

One moment, Bluestreak was alone in his spark. The next moment, there was another presence alongside his own. The other presence was determined and protective, caring but forceful, playful and passionate. Bluestreak felt it flare into existence, glowing as brightly as a supernova, and he rocked backwards in astonishment.

From the other presence, Bluestreak felt a mirrored burst of surprise, and then a matching burst of love. And he knew that those emotions came from the mech whose hands were entwined in his.

"I can **feel** you!" Bluestreak gasped. He stared at Barricade, and felt a smile grow on his lips.

Barricade's optics were wide and slightly unfocused. He sat motionless, staring at Bluestreak for a long moment. Long enough, in fact, that Bluestreak felt a stab of worry that something had gone wrong in their joining.

As soon as the emotion registered in Bluestreak's processor, Barricade's head jerked, and his optics focused on Bluestreak's. "I'm... fine," Barricade murmured. He released one of Bluestreak's hands and reached up to touch his face. "I felt that! I'm fine. I just..." He shook his head finally, and smiled. "I didn't think it would feel like this."

Bluestreak felt a foreign sense of affection and curiosity. With a start, Bluestreak realized he was sensing what Barricade was feeling. He closed his optics, and realized that when he concentrated, he could feel the weight of Tankor's hand on Barricade's shoulder, and an ache in one of his shoulder struts from an old racing injury Barricade had received before starting university. Bluestreak opened his optics again to find Barricade still looking at him in wonder. "This is going to take some getting used to," Bluestreak said.

The commissioner rested a hand on both of their wrists, just above their data ports, and gently separated their hands. "If the sequence has completed, you can disconnect at any time," he said. When Bluestreak managed to break free of Barricade's gaze to look at him, the commissioner smiled. "Once you've disconnected, we can finish signing the agreements and formalizing your union." He didn't sound bored, exactly, but Bluestreak knew he did this routinely. He must see mechs struck dumb like this so often that it had become just part of the job for him, perhaps.

Still reveling in the sensation of having Barricade's essence coiled so close against his own, Bluestreak wondered how anyone could find mundanity in something that felt so transcendent.

They managed to sort out their cables and retract them into the appropriate housings, and sign the agreements. After the commissioner gave them a copy of their agreement, warned them to be careful while driving home, and advised them to check with a medic in a few days to make sure the bond had been formed cleanly, the two of them staggered out of the Citizen Services offices with most of their dignity intact.

Although, based on the smiles that they received from the clerks in the Citizen Services office, Bluestreak figured that most mechs knew how their night was going to end up.

That was confirmed for Bluestreak when Tankor slapped Barricade on the shoulder and gave him a leering grin. "Since I know what the two of you are going to get up to once you're back home, I won't keep you," he said. "I'll see you at work in a couple of days, eh?" He flashed his visor in a wink before walking down towards the transformation lane at street level.

Bluestreak stared after Tankor, his shoulder stinging slightly where the larger mech had slapped Barricade. He jumped slightly when Dorgu touched his wrist.

"Friend Bluestreak, a question." When Bluestreak nodded, Dorgu continued. "No feasting? No celebrations? For a joining of souls such as this?" Dorgu asked, her fingers fluttered to indicate both Bluestreak and Barricade. Her dark eyes gleamed over her rebreather. "These bondings, I know some things about them. There is often a great party. But, you have no travel planned. You have only asked for one day of time. Why?"

"We're going to look for a third," Bluestreak said after a moment. He was having trouble parsing what Dorgu was saying; his processor seemed to be handling two sets of sensor inputs at once, and it was struggling to keep up. Bluestreak lifted his sensor wings as he formulated his answer. "Praxians, Vosians and Urayans... We trine up. It's traditional for mechs originating from one of those city-states to bond in threes. But... Since there's only the two of us, we decided to skip the big celebration this time." He smiled at Barricade, still reveling in the little thrills of emotion he was feeling from his new bond mate. "When we find someone to complete our trine, then we'll throw a big party."

"Ah," Dorgu said, pressing the tips of her long fingers against Bluestreak's chest in understanding and dragging them downward. "And then, you will take more time away from your work?"

Beside him, Barricade shivered, and Bluestreak heard his fans click on. _Right._ The info from the clerks included a warning about hypersensitivity until the bond settled. Bluestreak just hadn't been prepared for how intimate the sensation would feel. Neither, apparently, had Barricade.

Barricade's vents coughed to cover up the whine from his engine. "No," Barricade said, his voice somehow miraculously steady. "Most mechs only take a day or two afterwards to let the coding settle. Tomorrow or the next day we'll go to have our stripes painted. Then after that we'd just be sitting around." He smiled at Bluestreak, and Bluestreak could clearly feel a thread of mischief coming from his new bond mate. "Although I could probably think of things we **could** be doing." He grunted and laughed as Bluestreak elbowed him, even as Bluestreak felt his charge shift higher at just the thought of what Barricade was suggesting.

Dorgu brushed her fingers along Barricade's arm, and Bluestreak felt a shiver of sensation across their bond. He glanced at Barricade for a moment before feeling Dorgu brushing his arm in turn. Bluestreak turned to see her shaking her head, completely oblivious to the effect her touches were having on the two of them. "This, it is why I employed Bluestreak. We live, work alongside you. But still, so much to learn." She waved her hands down her own body as if to smooth out the long folds of her cloak. "Accepting a new mate into my stable, is different. Feasting. Dancing. Celebration. And then a period afterwards of meditation. Reflection. Travel! Go to someplace new. Several weeks, to ensure a proper integration." Her fingers fluttered through the air again in a gesture that Bluestreak didn't quite recognize. "Different! But all ways in love are good and true."

"Thank you again for standing with me, Dorgu," Bluestreak said, holding the palms of his hands together. "I don't have a lot of friends in the city yet."

Dorgu waved her hand and patted Bluestreak's shoulder. "My pleasure. My honour. Also, a chance for me to learn. This experience, I will relate back to my stable. Knowledge will grow." She shooed the two mechs towards the transformation lane with a waggle of her fingers and a high-pitched twitter of laughter. "But now, go! Celebrate your new bonding. May the idols bless you both."

Bluestreak's engine squealed as Barricade yanked on his arm and pulled him towards the transformation lane. All Bluestreak could feel from him was eagerness.

Bluestreak was surprised that they didn't get pulled over and cited for unsafe driving on the way back to their flat. They took the fastest route they knew, with Bluestreak leading the way and weaving through traffic, and Barricade driving right on his rear bumper. They passed one Enforcer who pinged a warning at them ("No racing!"), but otherwise managed to escape any further attention.

Each soft brush of Barricade's bumper against his sent a jolt through Bluestreak's systems. He was already keenly aware of Barricade's eagerness to get back home, but sorting out what part of the arousal he was feeling was his and which was Barricade's proved to be a much more difficult puzzle. When they were able to drive side by side, it was even worse. When Bluestreak drifted to the side so that his fender rubbed down Barricade's plating, he struggled to distinguish between what he felt and what he was receiving from Barricade.

He knew that when the coding settled in a day or two, it wouldn't be quite as difficult to separate his sensations from Barricade's. But right now, as their processors both worked to rewrite their internal code, they might as well have been two mechs sharing one frame.

One frame that was very eager to explore itself and these new sensations.

By the time they got back to their flat, they were both crackling with so much charge that they could barely work the lock on their door. They stumbled through the front door, and one of them kicked it closed. Somehow they made it to the bedroom, hands roaming each other as if they'd never touched each other before, and they collapsed onto the berth in a clatter of plating.

Bluestreak stared down at Barricade, and he could feel ( _oh Primus how deeply could he **feel**_ ) the anticipation and heat and desire that Barricade was feeling as he looked up at him, and there was a moment of vertigo when Bluestreak wasn't sure whether he was the one looking down or the one looking up at him, and then Barricade grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down and they were kissing and he could feel Barricade's lips on his and Barricade's hands on his shoulder and his hands on Barricade's head and his thighs straddling Barricade's hips.

And then he pushed himself backwards and his hands spread his legs open (spread Barricade's legs open) and he could feel his own hands on his thighs (on Barricade's thighs) and when his modesty panel retracted he could feel the cool draft of air on the lips of his valve (on Barricade's valve) and his spike pressurizing and his hand (Barricade's hand) wrap around it wantonly and he moaned in unison with Barricade as his spike slowly slid into his valve (into Barricade's valve) and he could feel everything at once and

when his overload (Barricade's overload?) washed over him (washed over them) he (they) felt the shock of it and the joy of it and the ecstasy of it echo and echo and echo until they stopped even wondering who was feeling what and who was touching who and where one stopped and the other began and they were just

together.

And so it went, with both of them drunk on the feeling of feeling each other, outside and inside and within and without. By the time they surfaced from the haze of their delirium, they found that the night was almost gone and the morning was about to break.

And they both needed fuel.

Barricade dragged himself from the berth first, staggering into their kitchen and returning with two cubes of warm energon. As he handed Bluestreak his cube and collapsed onto the berth beside him with his own, Barricade took a long drink before letting his head fall back against the wall. "You know, I always wondered why new bond mates weren't supposed to touch each other during the reception after their bonding ceremonies," he said. He laughed, and then lifted a leg to rest it on top of Bluestreak's. "I always thought it was some religious thing. One of those 'abstinence of sensual pleasures' things that the hardcore Primists are always preaching about."

Bluestreak sipped at his fuel thoughtfully. "It was covered in the basic education uploads with your adult build," he said.

"Sort of? They could have been a bit more explicit," Barricade said with a snort. He took another drink. "If I remember right, it just said 'new bond mates may experience a strong urge to touch one another for a period immediately following the initiation of their sparkbond'. That doesn't really cover it, you know?" He turned his head and planted a kiss on Bluestreak's audial. "Not that I'm complaining about being surprised."

The fuel was going down very easy. Bluestreak took a deep swig before replying. "Well, my mentors warned me," he said. He smiled, remembering the conversation he'd had with Lightbraid about bonding, after he got his final upgrades, and leaned against Barricade heavily. "They also say that the stronger the need to touch each other, the stronger the bond."

Barricade's laugh sounded tired, but happy. "Then we must have the strongest bond on all of Cybertron."

The tactile sensation of plating on plating everywhere they touched still sent a soft zing through Bluestreak's systems, but it was muted now. Bluestreak was also better able to recognize the difference between what he was feeling and what Barricade was feeling. That was a relief.

But now that he could parse what was coming from him and what was coming from Barricade, Bluestreak felt his spark quaver.

The decision to bond with Barricade had seemed right. They had been friends, and then lovers. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle: Barricade's impetuousness paired with Bluestreak's planning, Bluestreak's pragmatism balanced with Barricade's mischief. Barricade had become the most important mech in Bluestreak's life, and bonding felt like the next logical step in their relationship. It was a step that Bluestreak took willingly and gladly.

Mostly.

Ever since Barricade had asked him to bond, Bluestreak had not been able to figure out whether his doubts were because he was simply afraid of things changing between them, or because he didn't really love Barricade as much as he thought he did.

Bluestreak had always found it frightening stepping off into the unknown.

And now his whole being was twined with Barricade's. It was joyous and awe-inspiring and... yes, a bit frightening.

All he could feel from Barricade was overwhelming love and affection. He wondered what Barricade could feel from him.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer to that question.

"Blue?" Barricade put a finger under Bluestreak's chin to turn his face towards his. "You went all... sad or something just now." Barricade was frowning, and Bluestreak could feel the love coming from Barricade being threaded through with concern. "What's wrong?"

Bluestreak stared at Barricade, looking into his crimson optics as if he could see their future written there. "I'm... sorry," he stammered.

Barricade frowned deepened. "For what?"

Bluestreak noticed how the sensor points in Barricade's optics widened and made miniscule adjustments as he followed Bluestreak's gaze. "I can... I can feel how much you love me." He pressed a hand to his spark as if he could contain the emotion where it was. He felt coolant well up in his optics and he blinked the tears away. "I can feel this and... And I don't know what you're feeling from me. If it's not the same, if it's not as strong, Cade, I'm sorry, I'm –"

His words ended with a squeak as Barricade pressed his lips against Bluestreak's. As soon as Bluestreak stopped speaking, Barricade softened the kiss until their lips were just brushing against one another's, just like the first kiss they'd shared with each other. "Shh, Blue," Barricade murmured into Bluestreak's mouth. "Shh." He stroked the side of Bluestreak's head and held his gaze. "Think about me, Blue."

Bluestreak blinked at Barricade, not sure how he was supposed to do anything **but** think about the dark mech beside him who was occupying such a huge spot inside him. He twisted his pede to lock his heel spur against Barricade's. "I am, Cade. I can't **not** think about you. But what is that supposed to –"

"Shh," Barricade said again. He laid a finger over Bluestreak's lips and smiled. "No, I mean **really** think about me," he said.

Bluestreak closed his optics and thought about Barricade. Bluestreak thought about the way his optics wrinkled at the corners when he grinned, and how he would lean his head against his hand while sitting and listening to Bluestreak when he talked, and how he always had Bluestreak's fuel prepared for him when he got home from work first, and how his sensor wings would flare out over them when Barricade had Bluestreak's legs pushed open, and how he always pulled Bluestreak close against him even when he was deep in recharge, as if he needed Bluestreak as close to him as possible and –

"See," Barricade murmured. He nuzzled Bluestreak's audial before kissing the tip of his chevron. "I can feel how much you care for me, Blue." When Bluestreak opened his optics and turned to look at him, Barricade kissed the tip of his nasal ridge. "You love me. I can feel that. So you don't have anything to worry about."

"But I..." The power to Bluestreak's vocalizer faded, and he reset it. As soon as he started speaking again, he had the opposite problem: his words starting queuing in his processor almost faster than he could say them. "I... I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure that I wanted to... I thought I was sure, but then you were handing me your cables and I had this moment where I wasn't sure that it was the right thing to do and what if that means I didn't really want to and –"

"Blue." Barricade's voice was strong and firm. "Do you remember when we were shopping for our couch?"

"...what?" Bluestreak blinked at Barricade again. He replayed what his bond mate had just said to make sure he had parsed it correctly. "Our couch?" When Barricade nodded, Bluestreak shrugged slightly. "Yes, I remember."

Barricade smiled. "Do you remember how you dragged me from store to store, all over Iacon, for almost a full month, looking at what seemed like every single couch in the city?"

He still wasn't sure what this had to do with their bonding, but Bluestreak nodded. "Well, yes," he said. "I wanted to make sure we got the best couch we could afford."

Barricade pulled Bluestreak's empty fuel cube from his fingers and set it on the table next to the berth. Then he threw his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders and snugged him close again. "And do you remember how, after we'd spent all of that time and energy trying out all of those couches, we finally bought one? And when it arrived, you sat on it for a full thirty seconds and then declared that we'd made a horrible mistake?"

Bluestreak's sensor wings were pinned against the headboard of their berth, but if they'd been free they would have flared out indignantly. "I didn't say we'd made a horrible mistake," he exclaimed. "I just said that I wondered whether we should have bought the other one we were considering. You know, the chromed one with the higher back but deeper seats."

A grin had grown on Barricade's face as Bluestreak spoke. "And what do you think of the couch now?"

"Well, it's fine," Bluestreak said. Despite his initial misgivings, he actually rather liked their couch. The design was perfect for Praxian wings, it could easily hold three mechs all side-by-side, and it had proven to be a great place to take a nap. Bluestreak shrugged. "I just wasn't sure whether it was the best choice, but now that we've had it for a while I really like it." He frowned at Barricade. "But I don't see what this has to do with our bonding, Cade." He pulled away from Barricade slightly, gesturing with his hands. He sometimes found that using his hands helped his processor organize its points. "Listen, I'm serious. I don't want to hurt you. Trust me, that's the last thing I want to do! But I want to make sure you know how I feel, and..."

Barricade's grin didn't fade at Bluestreak's words; if anything, it grew wider. "I know you have a hard time making decisions about things you feel are really important," he said. "Decisions about your work. Decisions about our couch. Decisions about any kind of change in your life. And that includes decisions about us. Sometimes I think you look for so long before you leap, that you forget why you wanted to make that leap in the first place. Or maybe you confuse your own fear of change for reluctance. I'm not sure." Barricade leaned down and pressed another kiss against Bluestreak's lips. "But what I **am** sure about is that I know what you feel when you look at me... And it's the same thing I feel for you."

Bluestreak thought about this while Barricade kissed him again. When Barricade pulled back, Bluestreak said, "Really?"

"Really." Barricade rested his head crest against Bluestreak's. "So... Please stop worrying about how much you love me... And just let me love you in return."

As Barricade spoke, Bluestreak felt a wave of love and tenderness from his bond mate. He closed his optics and let himself float away in the sensation.


	7. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade settle into their lives as a bonded pair, but it's amazing how quickly time passes.

After their bonding, Bluestreak's and Barricade's lives settled into a comfortable rhythm.

The bond coding settled for both of them in about a day and a half, and they no longer found themselves directly reacting to things that their bond mate was feeling. And within a week, they both learned how to block sensations from the bond so that they weren't constantly distracted by the other's emotions at various points during the day. They also learned to block what they were sending to one another, giving them a sense of privacy again.

It helped that the bond weakened with distance. When they were both at work, they were physically far enough apart that only the strongest emotions carried. Bluestreak could feel when Barricade was irritated or amused by something he was experiencing during his duties as a Senatorial guard, and Barricade could feel Bluestreak's intense focus or harried agitation at his work. But with Barricade still on rotating shifts, being able to put up a block on the bond was useful to allow the other to recharge.

On the other hand, the interfacing was **amazing**. They both knew that a bond increased the power of an overload, as feedback from one partner fed into the other, ricocheting into a crescendo of breaker-tripping charge. And they both found different ways to enjoy it and each other. Barricade, for his part, loved having the bond wide open from the moment they started touching each other until their love-making climaxed. Bluestreak, meanwhile, liked to tease his bond mate: keeping his part of the bond narrow until his charge was almost unbearable, and then blowing the bond open to overwhelm Barricade with an influx of sensation.

With the bond, all the small negotiations they'd made over the years ever since moving in together had to be revisited now that there were few emotional secrets between them. Bluestreak discovered that Barricade was actually bored by some of the holovid shows Bluestreak liked, and only pretended to like them to satisfy Bluestreak. Barricade realized that Bluestreak seethed in irritation every time that Barricade left the wash rack and their fuel prep area in a messy state without cleaning up after himself. However, they met each of these small discoveries with a discussion and a compromise. If anything, hashing out their differences this way only deepened their love for one another.

But at the same time they heeded the advice of others they knew who were bonded, specifically to make time **away** from one another. "You spend every online moment in each other's sparks," Caelum told Bluestreak on one of their monthly calls. "Make sure you take time to get to know other mechs. Make other friends, apart from one another. Otherwise you risk growing far too dependent on one another."

"And who knows," Cygnus added. "One of your new friends could end up being a possible third for a proper trine."

Bluestreak had smiled at his precator. "There aren't a lot of Praxians here," he said. "Although we have met a fair number of Urayans and Vosians." He thought for a moment. "I suppose they could work for a trine as well. They would have the right sort wiring for trining up."

"Don't pressure him!" Lightbraid gently cuffed Cygnus on the shoulder, then looked at Bluestreak. "Think about making friends first!" she said. "You've got all the time in the world to find a third." She leaned down close to the hologrid and smiled. "Focus on finding **friends**. You'll find someone to complete your stripes in time."

Bluestreak had grown used to seeing a flash of white and gold out of the corner of his optic, where before his sensor wing had only been solid silver. The traditional bonding stripes painted on the bottom edge of his left wing marked him as one of a bonded pair, the same as the stripes painted on Barricade's right wing marked him. "It's a Praxian custom," Bluestreak explained to Dorgu when she asked about them. "When we stand next to each other, the stripes on our wings line up. When we find a third and bond into a trine, we'll both paint our other wing, and the third bond mate will paint both of theirs to match."

 **When** they found a third, Bluestreak had been careful to say. Not if, **when**. Although, it wasn't as though they'd spent a lot of time looking for someone to fill their trine. There was too much else to do... Including making friends.

Bluestreak got to know a friendly mech who worked as a cross-site courier for his company. Bumblebee was talkative and friendly, and the two of them hit it off well. After becoming friends, they occasionally went out for drinks after work when Barricade worked in the evenings or had classes. That arrangement had one obvious advantage for Bluestreak: it prevented him from going home to an empty flat. Plus, he knew that Barricade would never even consider a relationship with a minibot ("Cute but way too hyper," he'd called them) so there was no inclination on Bluestreak's part to consider Bumblebee as anything other than a friend.

Barricade had already made a friend at work in Tankor. The chunky mech had a gruff sense of humour that Barricade appreciated, and they could vent to each other about work situations that Bluestreak simply didn't understand. And Barricade didn't find Tankor the least bit attractive. "Call me old-fashioned, but I just can't see myself with anyone who didn't have these," he had said, running his hands down the back of Bluestreak's sensor wings.

Lightbraid was right. They had all the time in the world to find a third. Eventually, Bluestreak put it out of his mind. There were so many other things for them to focus on, and – to be honest – Bluestreak had grown comfortable with their lives the way they were, with just the two of them.

Barricade continued taking classes, one or two at a time. Not all of the courses went smoothly; Advanced Ballistics turned out to involve far more math than Barricade had expected. Fortunately, Bluestreak was able to help him with that course, tutoring him at every opportunity until Barricade managed to pass the course with good marks.

"I could never have passed that class without you," Barricade said after he'd received the course credit.

Bluestreak smiled over his glass of celebratory high grade: the good stuff at the expensive bar they only went to for very special occasions. It was a hit on their budget, but Bluestreak insisted that they celebrate. "I'm sure you would have managed," Bluestreak replied. "But I said I would help you out in any way I could." He held up his glass and waited while Barricade held up his own, tapping them together gently. "Here's to making progress."

Progress continued, until Barricade finally received his specialization certificate. He decided against attending the graduation ceremony. "Most of my classes were full of newly upgraded mechs. I already felt a bit out of place. Standing up on a stage alongside them would only draw more attention to how much older I am than them," Barricade had groused. "Besides, it's not like I'm done with all of this learning stuff."

See, with his specialization certificate in hand, a whole array of new doors opened for Barricade. But the one he was really interested in – working in the Primal Intelligence Bureau - meant starting yet **another** round of classes, these ones taken directly through the internal training program at the Senate.

By that time, Barricade's continuing education had become just a part of their lives.

Bluestreak's role in his company was growing and evolving, too. He had a chance to implement some changes to how fuel procurement and hiring was done, and he oversaw a huge project to overhaul their tracking system for cargo. By the time that project was done, Dorgu gave him a bonus of almost twice his periodic wages. "Shanix saved, significant," she said. "Employees, happy. Customers, pleased. Company, grows. Bluestreak, asset. I was right." She twittered happily to herself as she stroked Bluestreak's shoulder.

About thirty years into his employment at Qhasel Logistics, Bluestreak did a market study on transportation and other logistics companies in Iacon and the surrounding area, and found a need that was being underserved. When he presented his idea to Dorgu, she immediately expressed interest. But she hesitated before telling Bluestreak to proceed with his plans.

"My stable, grows. I age. I must think of the future," she said. Her long fingers tapped at the datapad that Bluestreak had presented to her before turning to look at her eldest daughter and stroking her arm. "Urzul will take my place, idols willing. Urzul, well-trained. Urzul destiny: become head of stable. Become head of company." Dorgu blinked her large dark eyes at her daughter. "Urzul will make this decision."

Urzul nodded solemnly, and patted her mother on the arm before looking down at her copy of the proposal.

Bluestreak's sensor wings twitched slightly, but he tried not to fidget. He knew his idea was a good one: it would give the company another solid revenue stream, and would increase their visibility to potential customers who might not have otherwise considered them for their hyperspace cargo transfers. It was tempting to try to verbally add more information to his case, but he kept still. Everything that Bluestreak had learned about A'ovans in his time working for Dorgu told him that he needed to let Urzul make this decision with just the information he'd presented her. This was most likely a test by Dorgu to see if Urzul would be suitable to lead the company, and their stable, after Dorgu was gone.

With another slight twitch of his wings, Bluestreak looked at Dorgu. He'd only been in Iacon for – what, Three decades? Barely a blink of an optic. But Dorgu had not been young when Bluestreak had been hired, and organics did not live for nearly as long as Cybertronians. Since he'd first met her, Dorgu had started walking with more of a stoop, and her large eyes were slightly clouded. And the new times he'd seen her without her rebreather, in her sealed office or in the eco-dome where her and her stable lived, he saw that her mouth tentacles had grown thin and pale.

Bluestreak sat back in his chair as he waited for Urzul to make her decision, letting the realization wash over him. In the short time that Bluestreak had been living in Iacon, Dorgu had grown from middle-aged to elderly. And all that Bluestreak had accomplished was finding one bond mate... And even that had seemed incredibly quick to him.

But even still... Maybe it was time to start seriously thinking about finding a third.

Even though there were several dozen kilometers separating them, Barricade must have felt something of Bluestreak's realization and resolution across the bond. As Bluestreak sat in Dorgu's office, he had the comforting sensation in his spark of an embrace from Barricade. He sent back a soft brush of affection in thanks.

Bluestreak refocused his optics when Urzul began tapping her hand down Dorgu's shoulder, repeating a motion over and over. Bluestreak recognized the tactile expression as one of indecision, and he leaned forward, waiting to see what Dorgu's reaction would be.

But as soon as Dorgu turned to look at her daughter, Urzul's hand stopped, and she straightened in her seat. "Research, sound. Idea, good. Plan, well-considered." Her hand twitched on her mother's shoulder for a moment, and then she settled it in her lap. "Plan should be accepted. Plan should be initiated. This is my decision."

When Dorgu nodded, Bluestreak sat back in his seat and smiled. "Thank you," he said. "I know it'll be a lot of work to implement it, but I think the payoff will be more than worth it."

While Barricade was focusing on his intelligence training, Bluestreak poured himself into this new project. His research had shown that two areas that were being underserved in Iacon were local intercity deliveries, and small-scale deliveries to the rural areas surrounding Iacon. Most companies handled these types of deliveries on their own, carrying both the risk and the cost. With Bluestreak's new project, Qhasel Logistics offered customers a delivery service that didn't mean hiring couriers who might be under-utilized, or asking their regular staff to make the deliveries themselves, even if their frametypes weren't suited for the job.

"We've already hired two mechs who I think are perfect for this new division," Bluestreak said one night as they sat on their couch devouring the takeout he'd picked up on his way home. This was a splurge from the little cafe near his office. They were a bit expensive, but they also made the most amazing bismuth squares: rich and decadent. They were definitely a 'sometimes' treat. He popped another square into his mouth. "We're focusing on the rural deliveries first because there was no one providing that service."

Barricade nodded and dug into the box he was holding. He was probably looking for a copper square; those were his favourite. "You mentioned last week that you were interviewing for those jobs."

"Yeah. They found two truck frames who are going to be just perfect for the job. They're even a bonded pair." Bluestreak grabbed one more square and set his box on the table. He smiled as he thought about the two new employees. Hound was open and friendly, while his bond mate Trailbreaker was more reserved. But they seemed to complement each other in the way that Bluestreak always thought mates should... The way that he and Barricade complemented each other. "The new delivery manager can't wait to put them to work. And now with Urzul taking on more and more of the business, this is a good chance for her to make her mark with the new division."

After finally finding what must have been the last copper square in their order, Barricade tossed his box onto the table next to Bluestreak's. As Barricade savored the last taste of his square, Bluestreak could feel the quiet swirl over the bond of Barricade mulling something over. So Bluestreak wasn't surprised when Barricade looked at him and asked, "So if the old lady's winding things down and handing over the wheel to her sparkling, don't you think this would be a good time to cut your ties with the company? You know, strike out on your own and set up shop for yourself. Like we talked about."

It was an old discussion, and a familiar argument. It was something that had been brought up time and time again, and it felt like Barricade was bringing the topic up more and more often. Bluestreak suspected that someone Barricade hung out with at work had been putting ideas in Barricade's processor. (Tankor maybe? Bluestreak didn't know the mech very well, or any of Barricade's other coworkers.) But regardless of how many times the point was brought up, the conversation always went the same way.

Bluestreak settled back in the couch. "I told you, I still don't think I'm ready to start up my own business," he said. "There are a lot of things to consider, and it would be a huge financial risk." He shifted around on the couch, curling himself into Barricade's side until the dark mech wrapped an arm around him. "I'm making good shanix now. We've actually starting to create a nice little relief fund for ourselves, something we can dip into when we have a large expense come up." Bluestreak laced his fingers through Barricade's. "You know, like throwing a big bonding reception when we find a third... Or when we apply to Vector Sigma for a new build."

Barricade grunted, and Bluestreak felt the tang of dissatisfaction from his bond mate. That was a surprise; usually mentioning their plan to eventually apply for a mentee got Barricade in a better mood. "I just think that once you really got the business off the ground, you'd be making even more than you are right now," Barricade said. "You're super good with numbers and all that financial stuff. Why shouldn't you use that for your own benefit instead of for some organic?" Barricade's engine growled quietly. "All this work you're doing is great for them, but you could be doing it for yourself as your own boss. There's no need for you to be subservient to a fleshy."

Bluestreak frowned at the casual slur. This was a new step in the old dance. "I **like** working for Dorgu. She's fair. She respects me and my ideas, and she pays me well for what I'm doing. All of her employees are happy, and I really like everyone I work with." He looked up at Barricade. "And you like her, too? Or I thought you did."

There was a flash of contrition over the bond as Barricade looked down at Bluestreak quickly. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Dorgu's fine. But what do you know about her sparkling? She might not be as nice to you."

"Daughter, not sparkling," Bluestreak corrected. He sat up slightly, still confused. "And she's perfectly nice, too. She's a little less open than Dorgu, but that's just a personality thing, I think. I can introduce you to her if you want." He tipped his head to the side, the rude term that Barricade had used still ringing in his audials. "Cade, you know it's not polite to call organics that. You know... A fleshy."

"Well, it's what they're made of, isn't it?" Barricade asked. When Bluestreak continued to stare at him, Barricade vented and nodded. "But yeah, sorry. You're right. I just hear it a lot at work from the other guards. I guess it just sort of slipped into my internal dictionary." He shrugged again. "I guess I shouldn't say that. I'm sorry."

Bluestreak sent Barricade a wisp of gratitude over their bond as he curled back into his side. "It's all right. Just try to remember not to use it around organics. It's derogatory." He thought for a moment. "I can't believe that they let you use language like that in the Senate."

Bluestreak felt Barricade shrug. "We mostly just use it amongst ourselves, when we're discussing whatever petitions the Senate is hearing. The fl- ...The organics ask for a lot of things, you know. Did you know that the Povians asked for their eco-dome to be expanded **again**? That's the sixth time in the past three hundred years." Barricade's engine turned over again with a low rumble. "Fortunately their petition was denied. Otherwise we'd lose another three residential towers just so the organics could have more space. I don't know why they don't just move outside of the city and get out of our way." He gestured with his hand vaguely. "You know, they could start their own city off on their own, somewhere in the outback."

"The Povians have been here for ages. I'm not surprised their numbers are growing," Bluestreak said. "So of course they're going to need more space. And they do a lot of the manufacturing for medical parts for the Iacon Medical Center, so it makes sense for them to be located in the city." He hummed as he thought. "And it's not like the Povians aren't contributing. A group of their scientists actually made a huge breakthrough in energon conversion a few years ago."

"Yeah, I know," Barricade said. His tone sounded agreeable, but Bluestreak could still feel the thread of discontent coming from him. "But advances like that don't nearly make up for the drain they have on the resources we have available. Senator Ratbat gave a really good presentation a last year on how we need to find better ways to reconvert energon or we're going to be in trouble."

"Everyone's aware of the energon issue," Bluestreak said. The slow drain on the planet's resources had been a topic of concern even before he was forged. "And there are lots of mechs – and organics! – looking for solutions. But forcing the organics to live in really cramped conditions isn't fair. They contribute to Cybertron as much as any mech."

Barricade vented sharply, then kissed the top of Bluestreak's helm. "I suppose," he said, and then reached for the control on the entertainment unit. "Did you want to watch the next episode of that show we started last week?"

Bluestreak knew a purposeful change in subject when he heard one.

* * *

Time passes quickly when you're not watching. Sometimes, unless you keep mark of a goal or an event, time can slip past you without any notice... Even when it's something that you've always wanted for yourself.

Being comfortable will do that.

Barricade had worked late the night before, slipping into the berth after Bluestreak had already fallen into recharge, but now it was a rare morning for which they both had the day off. They had made some tentative plans for the day. For the morning, they'd talked about driving to the promenade that had been opened up around the brand new shopping centre. They couldn't afford to buy anything from any of the stores, but it should be a nice day for a drive. In the afternoon, Bluestreak suggested that they finally use the gift card they'd received from Barricade's boss to go to the race track, and Barricade had enthusiastically agreed. And in the evening, Barricade wanted to go to an outdoor concert for a band that he'd recently started to enjoy. As a bonus, it was free, so it fit perfectly into their budget.

In other words, they had planned a lazy day filled with pleasant things.

Bluestreak woke slowly to Barricade nuzzling the side of his neck and kissing him here and there. Arousal bled through the bond, and Bluestreak soaked in that feeling. This was his favourite way to come out of recharge. "G'morning, Cade." He opened his optics and smiled at his bond mate.

"Good morning," Barricade replied between kisses. He wrapped an arm around Bluestreak's hip and pulled him tight against him, opening his legs and grinding his bared valve against Bluestreak's thigh. He lifted his mouth from Bluestreak's neck and brushed his nasal ridge against Bluestreak's. "Can I interest you in a little frag?" he purred.

"I don't know, Cade," Bluestreak said sleepily, making a show of yawning. "I just came back online. I'm still a bit tired." And then he narrowed his side of the bond, smiling when Barricade's engine whined.

It was a familiar game, one they both enjoyed.

Barricade leaned against Bluestreak, pushing him down onto the surface of the berth. "I'll do all of the work," he said, kissing up the side of Bluestreak's jaw as he stroked a hand down to Bluestreak's modesty panel. "I was just thinking about you all day at work yesterday." When Bluestreak's panel slid back and his spike housing spiraled open, Barricade wrapped his hand around Bluestreak's spike possessively as soon as it pressurized. "I couldn't wait to get home to you. To this."

Bluestreak smiled as his hips twitched at Barricade's touch. "To my equipment?" Bluestreak asked.

Bluestreak could feel Barricade's lust notch a bit higher on his side of the bond, but Bluestreak kept the connection constricted. "To your equipment, sure," Barricaide said, his fingers drifting down to brush against Bluestreak's valve, then encircling his spike once more. "But mostly home to you, Blue."

Bluestreak lifted his helm and caught Barricade's mouth with his, opening his mouth to his bond mate's and reacquainting himself with the contours of his dentae and glossa. When Barricade squeezed his spike, sliding his palm up its length and thumbing the weeping slit at its head, Bluestreak moaned into Barricade's mouth. "Then what are you waiting for?" Bluestreak gasped into Barricade's mouth. "I'm here. And I'm yours."

Another burst of desire came through the bond, and Barricade swung a leg over Bluestreak's hips, straddling him so that he was staring down at him. "I know," Barricade said, brushing a hand down the side of Bluestreak's helm. Then he rocked back, and slid the length of Bluestreak's spike into his valve.

Bluestreak groaned as he felt his length wrapped in the warm, wet softness of Barricade's valve. "Ah, Cade!" he said, rocking his helm backwards. "I'm thinking you should think about me at work more often."

Bluestreak put his hands on Barricade's hips, pulling him down against him as he ground upwards, but Barricade grabbed his hands. Pinning his hands on either side of Bluestreak's helm, Barricade grinned down at him. "Hey, I thought you told me to do all the work," he said, and swiveled his hips slowly. When Bluestreak groaned again, Barricade's grin widened. "So let me do the work."

"Gladly!" Bluestreak gasped as Barricade rose up so that only the head of Bluestreak's spike remained in his valve, then slowly slid back down again.

Bluestreak didn't think much more beyond that exchange, swept up in the pure carnal sensation of Barricade riding his spike. The only thing he kept aware of was how wide he allowed his side of the bond to go (not very) and how much charge was building between them (a lot) as Barricade's movements grew in speed and unevenness.

Then, when he was teetering on the very edge, clinging to conscious thought with just the barest strand of coherence, Bluestreak released his grip on the bond and opened it wide. As he felt the wash of his climax burst its banks and run through the bond, the echo of it bounced back across the bond from Barricade... And they both soared over the edge together.

When he finally surfaced from the contented muddle that the overload had made of his processor, the first thing that Bluestreak thought was that it was a good thing they didn't have a lot of things planned for that day. He gently rubbed his hands down Barricade's back, waiting for the dark mech to finish coming to his own senses. Finally, Barricade muttered something unintelligible, kissed the side of Bluestreak's helm, and slid off of Bluestreak's chest.

Bluestreak waited for Barricade's optics to flicker back on. When he saw their dim scarlet glow, Bluestreak smiled at him. "I know I've said this before," Bluestreak said, "but if you wanted to wake me up like that every day, feel free." He kissed Barricade gently. "I love that. I love you."

"I love you too," Barricade murmured. His optics brightened. "But just think how much more amazing that would be with another."

Bluestreak blinked at Barricade, trying to parse what he was saying. "Another what?" he asked finally.

"Another mech. A third." Barricade propped his helm up on one hand while his other casually fondled Bluestreak's headlights. "I promised you that we'd find ourselves a third, but... That hasn't happened."

"I know it hasn't happened yet. But we've been busy," Bluestreak said. He shifted slightly, encouraging Barricade's hand to move lower, to stroke his bumper, and he let his engine purr when Barricade complied. "We've got time."

"It's been almost fifty years," Barricade said. "Half a century."

Bluestreak frowned. Had it really been that long? A quick examination of dates showed that it had indeed been that long. "Time really flies, I guess," Bluestreak said. He rested his hand on top of Barricade's. "But like I said, there's no rush."

Then Bluestreak felt a flood of anxiety over the bond. Before he could say anything, Barricade shook his helm. "I want to go before Vector Sigma. I want a mentee. I've **always** wanted that," he said. "And I know you don't want to apply for a new spark before we get a third. So..." Barricade pulled a vent. "I want us to seriously start looking for a third."

"Oooh," Bluestreak said. "Yeah. That makes sense." He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, and narrowed the bond as he considered what Barricade had said. They were so good together right now. They were comfortable. Everything in their lives **worked**. Adding in a third mech would mean renegotiating everything, forming new routines, creating new habits.

It meant **change**.

Bluestreak knew he wanted to be part of a trine. He'd always had that in his plans, and for a while after they'd first bonded, Bluestreak felt the need for a third in his spark. Having a proper trine was romantic and traditional. Having a proper trine meant having a fully realized family unit. Living as just one half of a pair, like Barricade's mentors did, used to seem like a relationship that wasn't complete. But now that he'd been living in that type of relationship for so long, Bluestreak found that it worked for him.

Getting a third would mean changing all of that.

Then again, he **had** promised Barricade that they would go to Vector Sigma once they found a third. But a new spark would be an even bigger change in their lives than finding a third.

_So much change!_

Bluestreak felt Barricade prodding gently at the bond, his anxiety and curiosity seeping through. Bluestreak loosened the bond again and smiled at him. "Sorry," he said. "It's just that we hadn't discussed a third, or a new spark, in so long. I wasn't sure how I felt about it." He vented softly and pulled Barricade down towards him so that he could plant a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe we should, you know, hash all of this stuff out on a regular basis, just to check in with each other about things."

"Yeah, sure, that's probably a good idea," Barricade said distractedly, but his optics were fixed on Bluestreak's. "But... What do you think?" he asked. His anxiety came through even stronger now. "You **do** still want a new spark, right? I've heard that Vector Sigma won't grant one to a precator whose bond mate isn't interested in one."

"I doubt that's true," Bluestreak said. "I mean, there are a few single mechs with mentees, although they're usually pretty well-off, so they can meet the support requirements." Then he smiled at Barricade. "But I **am** interested, still." He **did** want one. He'd promised, after all. And even if the thought of finding a third mech for a trine seemed daunting, Bluestreak did like the idea of having a mentee to care for. The thought of having someone that he could care for, someone who depended on him – on him and on his trine! – made a tiny part of Bluestreak soften. "I am interested. But I also want a proper trine. Which means dating." He vented again. "You should know that I've never been very good at dating, though."

"Sure you are," Barricade said, his trademarked grin appearing on his lips. "You found me, didn't you?"

"I don't know," Bluestreak said. He rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm around Barricade. "If I remember right, you found me."

"Then I'll just have to start looking for someone who's just as amazing as you are," Barricade said, and pulled Bluestreak in for another processor-fuzzing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end (roughly) of Act 1! This story is vaguely divided into five acts. I hope you're enjoying it so far.


	8. Adventures in Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade begin to look for a third for their trine.

It had been almost a full century since Bluestreak had put himself into the dating pool. Finding himself there again was both amusing and irritating. For one thing, he forgot how awful it was to have to approach someone and ask them for a date. He'd dated some mechs before starting his schooling, and he'd found the process stressful and a bit of a waste of time.

The process had not improved at all since he'd last dated.

First, you had to find someone suitable. Bluestreak and Barricade knew that there weren't a huge number of Praxians in Iacon. And unlike the minibots and Vosians, the Praxians hadn't formed any formal cultural clubs where they could trawl for dates. And while Vosians and Urayans were both also wired to trine, Barricade was insistent that he wasn't interested in either of those frametypes.

"But Vosians have amazing wings," Bluestreak protested one night after they were on their way home from yet another failed trip to a bar, looking for prospects. "And Urayans have nice winglets. Are you really stuck on these?" he asked, wiggling his own sensor wings behind him.

Barricade shrugged. "I can't explain it," he said. "There's just something about the shape of nice, broad, Praxian sensor wings that does something for me." He made a face. "Besides, Vosians are too tall."

"Is this the opening for me to say something like 'You know what they say about a mech with large wings'?" Bluestreak said with a smile.

"It's not the size of the wings, it's how they use them," Barricade said, slinging his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders as they walked. He gave Bluestreak a lecherous look, one that was ruined by the humour coming through the bond. "And I could watch you waggle yours all night."

At that, Bluestreak had to laugh. For the whole rest of their walk home, he wiggled his wings every time Barricade looked at him, much to Barricade's delight.

Once you found someone suitable, you had to approach them and talk to them. You had to size them up and see if they would be someone you'd want to spend time with. You had to evaluate them, knowing that they were doing exactly the same thing to you.

It was exhausting.

Bluestreak had no trouble talking to mechs. However, he knew that he was bad about oversharing. He could easily dominate a conversation and not let the other mech get a word in edgewise. He was also aware that he had a terrible habit of interrupting. Yes, he knew all of this. But it didn't make it easier. Barricade could calmly silence Bluestreak with a gentle hand on his arm, or a quick smile and a vocalizer reset that let Bluestreak know that maybe it was time to listen. But Barricade wasn't always there. On nights Barricade was at work and Bluestreak decided to visit various bars and clubs on his own just to scope things out, Bluestreak was on his own.

As time went on, Bluestreak had a sneaking suspicion that maybe **he** was the reason they were having trouble finding someone.

But then Bluestreak did land a date with a mech. Hitch was a quiet Praxian who worked as an accountant at one of the firms Bluestreak's company did shipping for. He and Bluestreak commiserated for hours over comms about fellow employees who couldn't keep their numbers straight. Finally, after weeks of chatting, Bluestreak asked him out on a date.

Bluestreak was thrilled when Hitch said yes.

Bluestreak and Barricade had agreed on some ground rules for their search for a third. Whichever one of them found a mech would go on a few dates with them, to see if they were someone they thought their bond mate might like. If things went well, interfacing was allowed, but the bond had to stay open throughout (something Bluestreak agreed to with a smile). When it seemed appropriate (before or after the interfacing – they kept that option open), they would introduce their bond mate to the other mech, and see how things went from there.

Bluestreak's first date with Hitch went well, as did the second. The mech seemed a bit passive, though, and Bluestreak thought he might be a little shy. But he was friendly, and listened to Bluestreak's stories. On their fourth date, Bluestreak kissed Hitch.

It was strange, kissing someone who wasn't Barricade. It was funny the things you could get used to, Bluestreak thought. There were things he noticed now that he wouldn't have noticed before. For example, Hitch was just as passive in his kissing as he was in his conversation style, and Bluestreak found himself wondering if maybe the mech just wasn't that interested in him after all.

"Oh, I am," Hitch said when Bluestreak suggested it. Hitch glanced away bashfully. "I'm just nervous, you know? I mean, I know you like me. And I think you're fantastic." His sensor wings fluttered adorably when he said that, throwing Bluestreak another shy glance. "But I'm nervous about meeting your bond mate. I... I've never been courted for a trine before." His sensor wings dipped. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Well, I hope he likes you." Bluestreak smiled. "Maybe the best thing to do would be to get it over with. How about if I set up a date for the three of us in a few days, and we can bring all this suspense to an end?"

But it turned out Hitch was right to worry about what Barricade might think of him.

"What a useless mech," Barricade said after they'd said good night outside of the restaurant they'd gone to. "He laughed at every single thing either one of us said. He didn't seem to have a single opinion of his own. And when I asked him stuff about himself, he just gave really brief answers."

"Really?" Bluestreak said. "I think he's just being nice."

"Nice, sure," Barricade said. "Nice and boring." He looked at Bluestreak and frowned. "I'm sorry Blue. I know you like him, but I just can't see myself with him."

Bluestreak shrugged. It did sting a little, knowing that Barricade had so soundly rejected a mech that Bluestreak had found pleasant. "But I guess that's what this is about, though, right?" Bluestreak said. "Finding someone to fit both of us." He smiled. "I should have known that the first mech I found wouldn't be up to your **exacting** standards."

Barricade snorted. "I don't know if my standards are exacting. I just want anyone I date to not be a dullard."

The conversation Bluestreak had with Hitch to let him down was uncomfortable, but fortunately the mech took it well. "I was honestly surprised that we went on as many dates as we did," Hitch said. He looked glum, and Bluestreak felt a pang of remorse in his spark. "It happens a lot to me for some reason. Maybe Primus just doesn't mean for me to find anyone."

"Don't think that way," Bluestreak said, trying to project as much optimism into his voice as he could. "You just need to find the right mechs. Or mech! Maybe you'll find someone for a pairing!" He smiled at Hitch encouragingly.

"Maybe," Hitch said, then heaved a sigh. He smiled sadly. "You and Barricade seem like a great couple. I hope you find what you're looking for soon."

Later that night, Bluestreak rubbed his face as he related the conversation to Barricade. "He seemed so depressed," he said. "Poor guy."

Barricade shrugged. "I mean, he was nice and all. But..." He shook his helm. "I'm sorry. I would be bored into stasis with him. I need a little bit of fire in my partners."

Bluestreak laughed. "You can't mean like me?" When Barricade grinned and nodded, Bluestreak said, "But you're always going on about how utterly boring my job is."

Barricade rolled his optics. "Your job is completely and utterly dull," he said. Then he nuzzled Bluestreak's audial. "But **you** are interesting." He kissed his way down from Bluestreak's audial to his neck. "Very interesting."

With a hum, Bluestreak closed his optics, enjoying the feel of Barricade's hands roaming over his plating. "All right. I guess we'll keep looking, then."

Barricade found the second prospect, a clerk in the Decagon named Virtue. He went on one date with her, and then reported back that he was sure Bluestreak would like her. "She's a riot!" he said. "She was telling me this joke about an A'ovan and an Akkiel who find themselves walking into the same bar, and–"

Bluestreak held up a hand. "Is this the joke with the medical glue and the drinking glass?" he asked.

Barricade laughed again. "Yeah! You've heard it?"

"I have," Bluestreak said, and sent a shimmer of his disapproval over the bond. When Barricade immediately stopped laughing and stared at him in surprise, Bluestreak said, "Don't you understand how incredibly disrespectful that punchline is to the A'ovan? It disparages how they communicate in a really mean-spirited way. It would be like calling a Praxian a drone if their sensor suite's been damaged."

Barricade frowned. "I hadn't thought of it like that." He shrugged. "I doubt she meant anything mean by it."

"Well, I hope that you won't be repeating that particular joke." Bluestreak crossed his arms and cycled his vents. "Other than that, how did the date go?"

"Oh, pretty good." But Bluestreak could feel Barricade's distraction over the bond. "I'll, uh, be seeing her again next week."

Although, once that second date came, Barricade returned home to report that he wouldn't be seeing Virtue again. "You're right," Barricade said. "Her sense of humour is sort of mean-spirited." He smiled at Bluestreak and grabbed his hand. "You wouldn't like her, which means you couldn't consider her for a bond, so I'm not about to spend any more time on her."

And that was the last that Bluestreak heard about Virtue.

Cameo screamed into their lives out of the blue one day, about a month after the incident with Virtue. Their wash rack was acting up, so they hired a plumber to come fix it. The plumber turned out to be a Praxian. He had rich golden optics, a gorgeous green and black colour scheme, and had a sleek look about his shoulders and sensor wings that made Bluestreak go a little weak in the knees. Before the wash rack was even fixed, Bluestreak had asked him out.

If there was one word to describe Cameo, it was 'smooth.' He seemed suave and self-assured. He knew when to laugh and when to listen. "And just think," Barricade said after Bluestreak's first date with Cameo. "If this works out, we'll never have to pay to have our wash rack fixed again!"

While kissing Hitch had felt strange, kissing Cameo on the second date had felt amazing. The mech knew all of the ways to turn Bluestreak's charge to maximum, and their first kiss had left Bluestreak's feeling dazed. And Barricade had been nothing but supportive, especially since he got to 'eavesdrop' on their dates through the bond.

"I think I knew the instant that you two kissed," Barricade had told Bluestreak later that night, after Bluestreak had come back home with a goofy smile on his face. "I ended up self-servicing right here in the kitchen." He gathered Bluestreak up in his arms for a hug, then kissed him tenderly. "I don't think that anyone who makes you feel like that can be wrong. And," he added, giving Bluestreak a sly grin, "I can't wait to see what I feel when you two finally frag."

"Maybe I should just bring him back here for that, if he's interested," Bluestreak had suggested. "Then we can find out together."

Barricade had been amendable to that idea, but Cameo shrugged it off. "I want to get to know you first. Your bond mate sounds nice and all, but you're who I'm interested in right now."

And then Bluestreak had fallen into those gorgeous golden optics once more.

Bluestreak went on four dates with him before Cameo invited him to his place to watch a movie and "maybe have a little fun." It felt so odd, curling up on an unfamiliar couch next to a mech who wasn't Barricade. Cameo was a bit shorter than Bluestreak, and he had a flatter chest than Barricade. But he had the same sort of wandering hands that Barricade had, and it wasn't long before Bluestreak felt Cameo's hand settling on his hip.

When Bluestreak glanced at Cameo, the other mech cupped his cheek in his palm and brought his lips up to Bluestreak's. Just like every other time they kissed, Bluestreak's lines lit up with charge. The only difference was that this time, they were alone in Cameo's flat instead of standing out in public, and Cameo's hand had slowly drifted from Bluestreak's hip to his aft.

Cameo gave Bluestreak's aft a possessive squeeze. "How about we nix the movie and get to know each other better?" Cameo said, his engine rumbling deeply. The hand on Bluestreak's cheek moved to the hinge of Bluestreak's sensor wing, where he stroked a single finger down one of Bluestreak's transformation lines. He mouthed the side of Bluestreak's helm, then licked his way up to his chevron. "The couch converts into a berth to give us a bit more room," he said, and the low timbre of his voice sent shivers through Bluestreak's chassis.

Bluestreak's engine squealed in response. "Sure!" he said, hoping that his voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. He laughed, trying to find his equilibrium again, but Cameo had started sucking on Bluestreak's neck cables and _oh slag_ it was so hard to think. "Barricade had a couch like this in his first flat. It was really convenient for _aaaaa **aahh!**_ ...For something like this." Bluestreak's words dissolved into static as Cameo did **something** to one of the gaps in his hip.

It was strange and new and thrilling to have someone else's hands – someone other than Barricade's - wandering over his body. But even as Cameo was slowly pushing Bluestreak back down onto the berth, even as Cameo's glossa licked around the circumference of Bluestreak's headlights and his hand cupped the curve of his panel and he parted Bluestreak's legs to slot himself between them, Bluestreak could feel Barricade's presence in his spark. Barricade's presence felt comforting and familiar even as a strange set of fingers delved into Bluestreak's valve, making him squirm in delight. Barricade sent Bluestreak his own excitement and curiosity as Bluestreak took Cameo's spike his hand and rubbed its tip against his own anterior node. And when Cameo's spike slipped into Bluestreak's wet valve, Bluestreak knew that Barricade was riding along with him, matching Bluestreak's charge as it rose higher and higher.

And as much as he was present in himself, fully aware of Cameo's grunting overload and the spurt of transfluid into his valve and the roar of their fans and the throb of his own charge, still just short of its peak, Bluestreak felt when Barricade tripped over the edge of his overload. Feeling Barricade's climax roll through the bond is what pulled Bluestreak down into bliss, just as Cameo collapsed on top of him.

Bluestreak decided not to spend the night (that was just a shade too familiar, especially before he formally introduced Cameo to Barricade), but he wrapped his arms around Cameo's neck at the door of his building. "This was amazing," Bluestreak said, giving Cameo a long kiss farewell. "I had a great time. I can't wait for Cade to meet you."

Cameo returned his kiss, his large, rough hands resting comfortably on Bluestreak's hips, before smiling at him. "Have a good night, Blue," he said before closing the door.

Bluestreak practically floated home on a cloud. And when he got there, Barricade met him at the door with an enthusiastic growl.

They barely made it back to the bedroom before Barricade reacquainted himself with Bluestreak's frame in the most intimate way he could.

But when Bluestreak commed Cameo the next day, looking to set up their next date, he got no response. "Maybe he's just busy," Bluestreak told Barricade, and decided to try contacting him the following day.

A second attempt also went unanswered, so Bluestreak left Cameo a message. There was no response. He made a third attempt, and then a fourth.

Bluestreak started to get worried. "Maybe something happened to him," he said after not getting a response to his fourth comm. "What if he got hurt at work? Or in an accident on one of the throughways? There was a big accident on the northern cross-city expressway a few days after our date."

But before Bluestreak could comm him a fifth time, Cameo sent him a comm message of his own: just text. "It was nice to get to know you," it read. "But I don't think it's going to work out. I'm not really looking for a trine right now. Thanks for the time together though, and good luck on your search. Please do not contact me again."

Bluestreak received the comm message just as he was leaving work in the evening. By the time Barricade got home (in a rush, since he could feel the tumult of emotions wracking his bond mate), Bluestreak was curled on the couch and was staring at the wall.

"He couldn't even **talk** to me to say he wasn't interested anymore," Bluestreak sobbed into Barricade's shoulder when he shared the message with him. "He didn't give me a chance to ask if it was something I did. Why would he send a message like that unless I did something? I was so sure he was going to be perfect, for both of us. He was so nice, and he was gorgeous, and – oh Cade, you **know** how he was in the berth." As Barricade soothingly patted his back, Bluestreak wailed, "I just wish I know what I did wrong!"

It wasn't until Bluestreak had calmed down that he felt the anger simmering within Barricade. "Blue, I don't think you did anything wrong," Barricade said once Bluestreak had stopped crying. When Bluestreak finally blinked his optics clear, he saw that Barricade's face was set in a scowl. "I think you got used."

"W-what?" Bluestreak said, his vents still hiccupping. "What do you mean?"

Barricade gathered Bluestreak up in a tight embrace and kissed the top of his helm. "I've heard of mechs like that before," Barricade said. "Usually it's Urayans, not Praxians, pulling this kind of thing. But I'm not surprised at a Praxian doing the same thing if they're sleazy enough." There was another burst of anger from him, and Bluestreak felt Barricade pull a vent cycle to calm himself again. "They look for mechs who are searching for a third. They know that it's hard, trying to find someone who'll fit both partners, so their guard might be down. It makes you a bit vulnerable. They get in with one of the mechs – or both! – just so that they can get their circuits blown once or twice... And then they bail. They like the hunt, they love the frag, but they have no interest in sticking around for anything more serious." Barricade's engine snarled.

Bluestreak shook his helm as he tried to reconcile that theory with the smooth mech that had so thoroughly pushed all of his buttons. "I just can't see him doing that. He seemed so nice." He clung to Barricade, a part of his processor still not willing to give up the vision of him and Barricade and Cameo all living happily in a trine together. "Maybe if I tried calling him again..."

Barricade tipped his helm to look at Bluestreak. "No, Blue, don't do that. Don't chase him." He wiped the tears from Bluestreak's cheeks and kissed away the ones that he missed. "A slaggard like that isn't worth it." His engine growled again. "As much as I would love to go find this mech and give him a fistful of reasons to apologize to you.... He's not worth that, either." Barricade's chest heaved as he made another visible effort at calming himself. Then he rested his chevron against Bluestreak's and looked directly into his optics. "You told me that you want someone kind. Well, that's what I would want for you, too. Someone kind. Someone who will treat you well. Someone who would respect you. And if this fraghead's idea of fun is to lead you on until you trusted him enough to let him stick his spike in you, and then he couldn't even be bothered to speak to you to tell you that he's not really interested after all?" Barricade shook his helm. "Then he is not kind. And he's not the sort of mech you deserve." He kissed Bluestreak's forehelm. "And that is all about what kind of mech **he** is, has nothing to do with anything **you** did."

Bluestreak snuffled again, but nodded. "Thank you," Bluestreak whispered. "I needed to hear that."

Months went by. They each went on dates with several different Praxians. Bluestreak had become a bit gun-shy after Cameo, but he learned to be more discerning about a mech before even asking them out in the first place. But for all of the mechs they met and all of the initial dates they went on, hardly any of them panned out into second or third dates. And worse, the constant nights out were seriously eating into their budget. They stopped buying the good fuel additives, and cancelled their holovid service, to the dismay of their mentors.

One night, Bluestreak wondered out loud whether they might be running out of Praxians in Iacon. At that, Barricade scoffed. "There are over two hundred million mechs living in Iacon," Barricade said. "We've only dated a handful of them." With a smile, he added, "Give it time."

Bluestreak leaned against him. "I am," he said. "I'm just anxious because I know what this means to you. To us."

Barricade shrugged and only repeated, "Give it time."


	9. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bluestreak's and Barricade's search for a trinemate continues, they find a mech who they both like... But then Bluestreak suffers a personal loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get started, there are a few brief content warnings for this chapter. 
> 
> First, there is description of ritualistic cannibalism. It's not written in a gory manner, but it is described from the point of view of someone who is witnessing it.
> 
> Second, there is a brief description of non-consensual aggression in a sexual context. However, it doesn't go beyond "grappling." 
> 
> Now, on with the fic!

Years passed as Bluestreak and Barricade looked for their perfect match. They met a variety of mechs, but none of them seemed suitable for one reason or another. Meanwhile, Bluestreak continued to despair that they would never find someone.

But then, on one of the jaunts to a club that they took together, they met a mech named Haywire. They both immediately took a liking to him. He was funny and outgoing. He liked listening to Bluestreak, and he could give and take digs as well as Barricade. He had gorgeous red optics (almost the same shade as Barricade's, Bluestreak noted), offset by a very utilitarian tan and silver paint job. He worked as a dockworker at the spaceport, but was taking classes to get a specialization certificate as a pilot. He played the vibroflute (specializing in the Praxian folk tunes that Bluestreak liked listening to), and enjoyed going to fight matches (a sport that Barricade had always had an interest in).

They had gone so long without finding anyone who seemed even remotely compatible with them both that Bluestreak and Barricade agreed to give him a chance. Since they had met him together, they went on the first date with him together. Then a second, and a third.

Bluestreak and Barricade agreed that Haywire seemed almost too good to be true.

On their third date, as they walked out of the racetrack where they'd spent most of the evening, Haywire stopped on the side of the path and looked at them both seriously. "I have to say, I never thought I'd find a pair as fantastic as the two of you." He grabbed at both of their hands, and looked at Bluestreak. "Bluestreak, I've never met a mech who could talk so much but still have so much to say. I could listen to you forever. And Barricade," he went on, looking at the dark mech. "You are a piece of work, but a great work. You've got a terrific sense of humour, and one of these days I'll even beat you in a race."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Barricade said with a grin, and Bluestreak could feel the swirl of happiness coming from his bond mate.

Haywire's sensor wings fluttered behind him. "I really like both of you, a lot."

"We like you, too," Bluestreak replied. He gave Haywire's hand a squeeze, and reached for Barricade's. _Primus, was this really happening?_

_Was he the one?_

Haywire's smile broadened, as if he was emboldened by what Bluestreak had said. "Well, in that case, I'd like a kiss, if you two want the same. And... I'd like to see this relationship go further." He smiled. "Falling into an amazing pair like you two is just too good to be true."

Hearing their own words repeated back to them by the mech in question made Bluestreak's sensor wings tip upwards. Bluestreak looked at Barricade, and saw what he felt in his spark reflected in Barricade's face. Gently pulling Haywire towards him, Bluestreak said, "Believe me when I say we feel the same way."

Haywire's kiss was different again than any of the other mechs Bluestreak had kissed during their search. Haywire's kiss felt possessive, as if he was afraid Bluestreak was going to get away. Later, Bluestreak wondered whether he would have felt differently about that first kiss had he not had Barricade standing beside him. There was something in the greedy way Haywire's mouth covered his, and the way his hands went immediately to his hips, pulling him flush against him, that made a tiny alarm bell go off inside his helm.

But then the wash of desire and anticipation from Barricade illuminated his spark, pushing any doubts out of it.

Bluestreak finally broke the kiss, stepping back from Haywire. Without missing a beat, Haywire turned to Barricade and pulled him in for a kiss of his own. Now Bluestreak could see how domineering Haywire's kissing was, the way he grabbed at Barricade's frame, and how Haywire's optics glowed brightly as he seemed to devour Barricade's lips with his own. And while it looked overbearing while he watched it, Bluestreak could not argue with the way the kiss made him feel as he watched it... Or how Barricade reacted, with fans spinning to a higher speed and his hands gripping Haywire weakly.

Later, Bluestreak wondered if he should have made a note of what he'd seen and felt. But like they say, the rear sensor view is always in better focus than the road in front of you.

After that date, Barricade suggested their next date be spent at their flat, and he threw in the completely transparent (although very Barricade) suggestion that Haywire come to spend the night. Haywire accepted, and they made plans for him to come over the following week, when everyone had the night off of work.

That was the week that Dorgu died.

"She was over two hundred years old," Bluestreak told Barricade when he got home after finding out the news. "I know that doesn't really sound like a lot, but she was very old for an A'ovan." His sensor wings drooped as he sat on the couch, trying to conjure up his memories of Dorgu when he'd first met her, almost sixty years before. "I can't believe I'm not going to see her again. I mean, she'd handed off control of the company and the stable to Urzul years ago, but she was still there almost every day. It's going to be so strange going to work and having her not be there."

"I still think it's weird organics can just drop dead of old age," Barricade said. "I mean, at least for us it's real things that get us in the end: spark burnout, fuel pump necrosis, processor degradation..."

"It's the same thing for them," Bluestreak said, looking up at Barricade. His partner was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, waiting while their evening fuel warmed. "Their parts wear out, just like ours, but it's harder to replace theirs. So she didn't just drop dead because she exceeding her service life or anything like that. I mean, she probably died from some sort of organ failure. I just didn't ask exactly what she died of." He lowered his helm back into his hands. "All that really matters is she's gone."

Bluestreak didn’t hear Barricade sit down beside him, but suddenly there were arms wrapping around his shoulders comfortingly. "I'm sorry," Barricade murmured. "I know she meant a lot to you."

"She was the one who gave me – me, a mech who'd barely even gotten his specialization finished! – a chance to help run her company," Bluestreak said. He mentally leaned into the support he was feeling through the bond, pulling on Barricade as much as he could. "She didn't have to do that, but she did. She could have just given me an apprenticeship and let me go after a year or so. She could have ignored every suggestion I ever made. But she didn't." He pulled another vent, then sat up and rested his helm on Barricade's shoulder. "I owe her so much. And now she's gone."

Barricade held Bluestreak silently, letting him simply feel his grief at what he'd lost, and giving him as much comfort as he could through the bond. When the timer rang in the kitchen, Barricade kissed the side of Bluestreak's helm. "So you mentioned something about being invited to the smelting rites?" he asked on his way out to the kitchen.

"Funeral rites, not smelting. But, yeah." Bluestreak leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Urzul didn't say much about it – she was pretty upset, you know? - so I went on the datanet to read up on their customs." When Barricade returned and sat next to him again, Bluestreak accepted the fuel cube Barricade handed him and took a sip. "The rites are three days long. Usually only the stable's members and a few close friends are invited. It's considered an honour to be invited to a funeral for someone who's not a blood relative." Bluestreak worked his intake as he pictured what the actual rites entailed. "But... I need to ask Urzul or Joal how much I'm expected to participate. I'm sure they aren't expecting me to actually..."

Barricade turned and leaned against the back of the couch, facing Bluestreak. "To what?" he asked, still broadcasting solace over the bond.

"Eat her." Bluestreak almost laughed at the sudden spurt of disgust and horror he felt from Barricade before the dark mech could cover it up. He patted Barricade's leg. "No, it's ok, I feel the same way. I mean, they know I can't really eat organic stuff. At least, I **think** they know that." He grimaced. "I could go through the motions if they really want me to, but I wouldn't get anything out of it, which is the whole point of the ritual. Not to mention how badly it would gum up my tanks and all that."

"They eat their dead?" Barricade choked out. He looked down at his cube of fuel, frowned, and set it on the table next to him. "I'm sorry, Blue, I know you liked the old meatbag, but that's disgusting."

Bluestreak threw a half-sparked glare at Barricade over the casual slur, but he couldn't bring himself to correct him. It just felt like too much work in his current state of mind. "Yeah, it is pretty gross," Bluestreak said, looking down at his own fuel. He slowly lifted the cube to his lips and sipped at his fuel again, making a slight grimace at the taste of the cheap, murky liquid. He briefly wondered what it would taste like to rip a part off a mech and take a big bite from it. Would it taste better than low-quality recycled energon? Then Bluestreak shoved that thought out of his mind. "But the ritual is steeped in symbolism for them. And there are some pretty stark parallels between that ritual, and how we smelt our dead, sending them back into the forging pools." Bluestreak looked up at Barricade, who was still staring at him in disbelief, and shrugged. "They believe eating a beloved stable member lets them live on as part of themselves. And we **are** literally made from the metal of all those who came before us."

Barricade shook his helm. "There's a **huge** difference between smelting, and ripping off hunks of someone you know and chewing on them."

"I'm not disagreeing," Bluestreak said. "But you have to agree that there are some thematic similarities." He took another sip from his cube and then cradled it in his hands. "But regardless of what the expectations are... I really want to go. Urzul said that Dorgu wanted me to come to her rites. I owe her at least that much."

The disgust Bluestreak felt from Barricade had lessened slightly, apparently enough for his appetite to come back. Barricade picked up his cube again. "Well, that's up to you. Just so long as I don't have to go."

"Don't worry," Bluestreak said, and then smiled. "You weren't invited." When Barricade returned his smile, he added, "But the last day of the rites are the same day as our next date with Haywire, when he's supposed to come here. I'll be at the temple for the full three days, and won't be able to come home. So I'll have the miss the date."

"Did you want to postpone?" Barricade asked. "I'm sure he'd understand." Barricade paused. "But maybe we shouldn't go into detail about what you're doing." He made a face. "It **is** kind of gross."

"Yeah, I know." Bluestreak thought for a moment, then said, "If you feel comfortable with it, I think it'll be all right for him to just come over anyway. No sense in wasting a perfectly good night off, especially when I'm not here. The only thing is that I don't think I'll be able to keep the bond open if you did want to interface with him." He gave Barricade a wan smile. "I'm just learning about this side of the A'ovan culture, but I'm pretty sure it would be bad form for me to get all charged up while they're... You know."

"While they're chowing down on their head of household?" Barricade made another face. "Yeah. That makes sense." He set his cube down again and wrapped both arms around Bluestreak. "Don't worry. No fragging while you can't have the bond open. That's more than fair." He nuzzled the top of Bluestreak's helm and rocked him slightly. "And I'm sorry. I can feel how sad you are about this. I don't mean to make light of it."

"Well, I knew it had to happen eventually," Bluestreak said. "I suppose you just need to get used to that with organics."

Even though Bluestreak did thorough research into the A'ovan funeral rites, he was not completely prepared for the experience. The rites were held in the main A'ovan temple inside Lago Dome, the largest eco-dome in Iacon. While most of the building was designed for the shorter and slimmer aliens, the main sanctum could easily accommodate a Cybertronian of average build like Bluestreak.

Bluestreak had been inside the eco-dome a few times, notably once for the mating ritual of one of Dorgu's daughters, and once for the naming ceremony for his Povian office assistant's offspring. Bluestreak knew that in the thicker atmosphere of the dome, scents would be much more pronounced than they were in Cybertron's thin atmosphere. The A'ovans had distinctive scents, musky and slightly floral, and Bluestreak had just assumed that's what they smelled like.

But on the first day of the funeral rites, Bluestreak learned that the scent actually came from the sticks of material that they burned in the temple. One of Dorgu's last hatchlings, Miel - who was acting as Bluestreak's guide during the rites - called the sticks 'incense,' and explained that the scent was meant to please their idols and to carry their prayers to the heavens.

Whatever the reason for the smoke, it overwhelmed Bluestreak's olfactory receptors and made his optics tear up. Within a few hours of the start of the ritual, he issued an override to turn off his olfactory receptors. That improved his experience in the temple dramatically, even if the thick smoke still made his optics watery and confused his sensor wings with ghostly images.

The ritual was repetitive, but Bluestreak understood how relatives of the deceased might find it comforting. The members of the stable sang songs in their language while a priest busied himself doing something to Dorgu's body. Miel quietly explained that the priest was removing Dorgu's organs in a proscribed order, and then preparing them for consumption. Each stable member would go up, accept a piece, and then they would all fall back into meditation while waiting for the next piece to be prepared.

Fortunately, Bluestreak was not expected to partake in the consumption, for which he felt very thankful. As it was, every time that Miel returned to his seat next to him, Bluestreak had to grit his dentae and try very hard not to think about what the A'ovan next to him had in his mouth.

It was in those moments that Bluestreak leaned on the bond, and gratefully accepted the support that Barricade was sending him. He was sure that some of his own disquiet and revulsion was seeping through their connection, but he didn't get a hint that Barricade was bothered by his emotions. Then again, the eco-dome was a fair distance from their flat. Strong emotions came through the bond easily, and anything that they purposefully sent to one another, but otherwise all Bluestreak could sense was the quiet presence of Barricade in his spark.

It was a little lonely, and Bluestreak occasionally 'poked' the bond just to get Barricade to respond in some way, maybe to send a brush of reassurance or a playful poke back. But he also knew that Barricade still had to go to work and recharge, so Bluestreak tried to restrain himself from nudging the bond too often. He didn't want to bother Barricade too much.

It was a very long three days.

Bluestreak had fueled himself well before coming to the temple, and had brought a few spare cubes just in case. But by the third day he was running low on both fuel and energy. Bluestreak's posture had also grown more and more slumped as the days went on, even though he occasionally remembered to pull himself up straight and shake out his sensor wings so that his cables wouldn't kink. The A'ovans had been singing and meditating and getting up and down for three full days, and Bluestreak could see that some of them were flagging as well. The youngest members of the stable took naps, cradled in the arms of the adults or leaning against them, but all of the adults seemed to stay awake for the full three days. They all kept going, somehow, and Bluestreak was determined to see the ritual through.

For Dorgu.

It was on the third day that Haywire was supposed to come over to their place for the date. Bluestreak hoped that he wouldn't be too upset about having to postpone the expected interfacing; after all, saying goodbye to his friend was important, too. Bluestreak hadn't gotten a chance to explain to Haywire what had happened, but he felt confident that Barricade could handle it.

But around the time that Haywire was scheduled to arrive at their place, Bluestreak felt... something... over the bond. A burst of surprise, maybe, or shock. Then, a flare of red hot anger. Bluestreak sat up straight, his sensor wings unconsciously flicking out in alarm as he reached across the bond for Barricade.

"Friend Bluestreak," Miel said, jerking himself out of the meditative state he had been sitting in. "What is it?" With no need for a rebreather inside the eco-dome, the A'ovan's mouth tentacles waved gently as he looked up at Bluestreak with wide, dark optics. "Something wrong?" he clicked in A'ovan.

There was another burst of shock over the bond, and then there was only silence and stillness.

"Cade..." Bluestreak whispered to himself, ignoring the long-fingered hand that came to rest on his arm as Miel peered up at him.

Barricade had narrowed the bond to almost nothing, blocking Bluestreak out completely. Fear and anxiety rose in Bluestreak. What was going on? Was Barricade all right? Had something happened? Or... Had Barricade decided to frag Haywire anyway?

Bluestreak tamped down the bitter jealousy that suddenly materialized inside him.

He prodded at the bond frantically, trying to get any response from Barricade at all. He was just about to step out of the temple to comm Barricade (something that he knew would be perceived as extremely rude) when suddenly, the bond was wide open again. As if nothing had interrupted their connection, Barricade was sending Bluestreak reassurance and love, tinted with apology.

There was no trace of arousal or excitement in Barricade, no echoes of an overload or even of pleasure like there would have been had Barricade been fragging someone. (And besides, that would have been the quickest frag in the galaxy if that had been the case.) Bluestreak worked his intake, suddenly feeling terrible that he'd jumped to such a horrible conclusion about what Barricade had been up to. If anything, there was a sheen of bitter ire colouring everything he was feeling from Barricade.

"Friend Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak looked down at Miel and smiled. "Sorry," he clicked quietly in A'ovan, mindful of the other stable members sitting around them, still meditating. "I just... It's nothing. I'm fine." He pressed his hands together and bowed his helm. "Bluestreak is sorry to disturb you," he said formally.

Miel nodded, and closed his dark eyes, falling into his meditation again.

Curiosity warred with Bluestreak's desire to stay in the temple to see the ritual through. He closed his optics and sent Barricade a burst of everything he was feeling: relief that Barricade seemed to be fine, love for his partner, and his exhaustion. After a moment, Barricade repeated the reassurance he'd sent before.

Bluestreak let himself sag back onto the cushion he sat on. He blearily looked up at the front of the temple, where the priest was holding aloft another gooey-looking... something. The mound of cloth that had covered Dorgu was almost flat, which meant... Bluestreak closed his optics, not wanting to finish that thought.

He concentrated on the fact that the rite was almost over.

Finally, the funeral came to an end. The last songs were sung, with lyrics that spoke of hope and rebirth, and the stable members all rose and began to exit the temple. Bluestreak summoned up as much energy as he could to bid farewell to Miel (thanking him for his assistance) and Urzul (offering his condolences once more), before leaving the eco-dome and making his way to the nearest transport station. He was so low on energy he didn't think that driving himself home would be a good idea.

Once he was seated on the transport, he opened a comm to Barricade. "Hey love," he said when Barricade answered his call. "I'm on my way home."

"How did it go?" Barricade asked. "They didn't make you eat anything, did they?"

"No," Bluestreak said with a soft laugh. "Although in some ways, watching the others eat was just as bad." He leaned his helm against the window and watched the buildings flick by outside the transport. "We're just passing Polygon Plaza now, so I should be home in half an hour or so. I'm so tired. And low on fuel." He dimmed his optics. "That was a long three days."

"I'll say. I really missed you." There was something in Barricade's voice, something in his tone, that made Bluestreak frown. He suddenly remembered the flare of anger he'd felt from Barricade earlier, and his optics flew open. But before he could say anything, Barricade continued. "I'll have some fuel warmed up for you when you get here."

"Thanks," Bluestreak said. He lifted his helm, and caught sight of the mech in the seat next to him wrinkling his nasal ridge as he looked at Bluestreak. _Oh, right._ Bluestreak flashed the mech an apologetic smile. "Um, and I'm gonna need a run through the wash rack. I stink pretty bad."

"I'll get that warmed up for you, too," Barricade said, and this time Bluestreak could hear the grin on his lips. "I love you."

By the time Bluestreak got off the transport, walked to their building, buzzed himself in, and rode the elevator to their floor, he was about to drop. He keyed open the door to their flat and let it close behind him with a sigh of relief. "Cade? I'm home."

Even as Bluestreak was sliding the bolt home on their door, strong black arms wrapped around his waist and he felt warm ventilations on his neck. "Welcome home, love," Barricade murmured. Then he made a sound in his throat. "Ugh! You **do** stink."

"I told you." Bluestreak turned around and pulled Barricade against him. "They were burning some kind of wood in there that was super pungent. I'm sure it permeated all of my mesh. I'm going to run myself through two full washes just to get rid of it all." He kissed Barricade gently, then buried his helm in the crook of his neck. "Primus, I am so tired." He slid his hands up Barricade's back and leaned into him as he hugged him tightly.

As soon as Bluestreak's arms tightened around Barricade, the dark mech hissed in pain. At the same time, Bluestreak felt an echo of his pain through the bond.

He could feel Barricade clamping down on the bond as soon as he sensed the pain, but Bluestreak knew what he had felt. "What's wrong?" Bluestreak demanded, immediately letting go of Barricade and looking at him intently. "Did you hurt yourself? Was it something I did? I didn't hug you too tight, did I?"

"It's definitely nothing you did." Barricade shrugged, giving Bluestreak a small smile. "It's just my sensor wing. It's wrenched a bit, that's all." He waved his wings behind him, and his left wing moved with a slower, jerkier motion than his right. "It'll be right in a day or two, no big deal."

"How did you do that?" Bluestreak asked, stepping close to Barricade again and putting his arms around him, this time more carefully. "Did something happen at work?"

"No. But it's no big deal, really." Barricade shrugged and tried to step out of Bluestreak's embrace. "We can talk about it later. I got your fuel warmed up for you," he said, finally extricating himself from Bluestreak's grasp, and he vanished into the kitchen.

Frowning, Bluestreak followed Barricade. "Cade, why not tell me now?" He watched as Barricade pulled the fuel out of the warmer and added his favourite flavouring agents to it.

Then Bluestreak froze.

As Barricade turned to hand him the cube of fuel, the overhead light shone just right on Barricade.

Pressed into the mesh of his neck cables was the faint imprint of a hand.

"Cade!" Bluestreak grabbed the fuel out of Barricade's hand and set it on the counter beside them. He tipped his helm to the side to look at Barricade's neck. "Wait! Cade, stop," he said when Barricade tried to pull away from him.

With a sigh, Barricade tipped his helm to the side to let Bluestreak look at his neck. "It's nothing."

"This isn't nothing!" Bluestreak said, his voice rising in volume. The fatigue he had been feeling seemed to evaporate in a cloud of horror. He felt anxiety rise in the bond, and for a moment he wasn't sure whether it was his or Barricade's. "Someone tried to **choke** you. Someone tried to..." Again, Bluestreak suddenly remembered the burst of shock and anger that he had felt from Barricade, and the pieces fell into place. He put his hands on Barricade's shoulders and looked directly into his optics. "Did Haywire do this to you?" His optics darted all over Barricade's face. "Did he hurt your wing, too?"

"Yeah." Barricade finally seemed to recover his equilibrium. "But it's all right. I took care of it." He grimaced, moving his wing gingerly again. "Which means we won't be seeing him again."

Bluestreak knew his mouth was hanging open, but he was trying to make sure that Barricade didn't have any other damage, and was trying to figure out what to say, and wondering what could possibly have happened. But all that came out of his mouth was, "What?!"

Barricade turned and grabbed Bluestreak's fuel cube and pressed it into his hand. "Come on," he said, taking Bluestreak's elbow and urging him out of the room. "Let's go sit down and I can tell you all about it."

They sat down at the table in the living area. As Bluestreak drank his fuel, Barricade vented quietly. "Haywire came over on the night of our date. I'd commed him ahead of time to let him know that you weren't going to be here – I know he was looking forward to all three of us getting together again, especially... You know, to frag." Barricade leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "But I let him know that was off the table, too, and he seemed all right with it when I talked to him."

"So what happened?" Bluestreak asked.

Barricade played with a stylus that was laying on the table as he talked, spinning it around and around on the table surface. "He got here, and... I don't know." Barricade shrugged. "Like I said, when I talked to him he seemed all right with just hanging out here. But when he got here he immediately kissed me – which was fine – and then started groping me – also fine..." Barricade held Bluestreak's gaze for a moment, then went back to spinning the stylus. "And then he said he didn't mind if you weren't here, but that the two of us could still have some fun. So I told him no." Barricade shrugged again. "He didn't like that. He said something about how he was promised a frag, and he was going to get it, one way or another. Then he spun me around, threw me into the couch."

Bluestreak sat still, his fuel forgotten in his hand. He was trying to sort through the emotions he was feeling, but the strange sense of satisfaction he was getting from Barricade was confusing. It seemed off tune from the story he was telling. "Is that how you hurt your wing? Did you fall on it?"

"I didn't fall on it." Barricade shook his helm. "He grabbed it and pulled on it. Hard." He smiled slightly at the strangled noise Bluestreak made. "Yeah, it fragging hurt! And that's when he shoved me down onto the couch. I guess his hand was around my neck, but I didn't really feel that... My wing hurt too bad."

"Oh, Cade, I'm so sorry I wasn't here," Bluestreak said, grabbing Barricade's hand. He tried to picture Barricade getting shoved down onto the couch, here, alone, by someone that they trusted... And his processor seized.

But then he felt reassurance pouring through the bond. Bluestreak looked up at Barricade, who smiled. "I'm all right, ok? No permanent damage. Anyway, I don't think he was very bright. He's just a dockworker, you know? He likes watching the fights, but hasn't had any training. I have to go through self-defense training once a year, with semi-annual refreshes on subject restraints and take-down methods." Barricade let go of the stylus and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest the way he did when he was feeling particularly pleased with himself. "In about two seconds I had him flat on the floor in a modified stasis hold. He changed his tune pretty quickly once he realized I was able to fight back and win. Coward." Barricade's engine growled. "I threw him out and told him that if he ever contacted either of us again, we'd call the Enforcers and press charges." He glanced at Bluestreak apologetically. "I know we didn't discuss it, but I figured you would probably agree. I mean... He wasn't what we wanted, or what we needed." He grimaced. "He wasn't kind, you know?"

Nodding numbly, Bluestreak said, "I still can't believe he did that." He looked down at his fuel cube and lifted it to his lips as if on autopilot. "He seemed so... Nice."

"I'm just glad it was me he tried that on instead of you. And, I'm glad that we found out now what he's really like, before things went any further between us," Barricade said. He leaned forward and stroked the side of Bluestreak's helm. "I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if something happened to you."

"How do you think I feel right now?" Bluestreak asked sharply. "My bond mate gets attacked by a date because I'm not here – like, you literally get attacked because I wasn't here! – and I wasn't here because I was off at a funeral for an organic, and..." He grabbed at Barricade's hand as he pulled away. "Ah, I'm sorry, Cade. I just feel guilty because I should have been here."

Barricade shook his helm. "I know it was important for you to go to Dorgu's smelting rites. I'm glad you were able to do that for her. And I was able to handle it myself. No harm done." He rubbed the side of his neck and grimaced. "Well, mostly no harm. But my self-repair should fix this up in no time."

Leaning forward in his chair, Bluestreak gently wrapped his arms around Barricade's neck and kissed him, his lips skating over Barricade's. "I have an idea," he said, leaning his forehelm against Barricade's. "Why don't we get into the wash rack that you said you warmed up for me, and I can wash off this smell, and then I can use the massage function on the sprayer to see what I can do about that wrenched wing."

Barricade smiled. "I think that sounds like a fantastic idea."

Later that night, as they were both curled up in the berth, clean and warm and sated from the mutual overloads they'd given each other, Bluestreak sleepily pressed his lips to Barricade's shoulder. As Barricade hummed, Bluestreak thought about all of their failed attempts to find a third. "Maybe we should just give up," Bluestreak said quietly.

"Hmm?" Barricade sounded as though he was already halfway into recharge.

"Maybe we should just give up finding a third," Bluestreak repeated. He saw Barricade's optics open and turn towards him. "I mean, we've had really rotten luck, and we've been looking for – what, seven, eight years? That's sort of ridiculous." He rolled his optics. "All that we've found so far has been con artists, and bigots, and cheaters and bores and jerks, and some nice mechs we just didn't gel with, and now we found someone who attacks their potential lovers, and..." He vented softly. "Maybe there's no one out there for us."

Barricade turned onto his side so he could look Bluestreak straight in the optics. "But you still want a trine, right?" he asked. "You've always talked about wanting a trine, ever since I first met you."

"Well, yeah." Bluestreak shrugged. "But I know you want a new build. And I put all these conditions on petitioning for one, and I just feel like **I'm** the one standing in your way of you getting what you want." Bluestreak smiled, but he was sure that the smile didn't reach his optics. "I don't want to be the reason you can't have everything you want."

"Blue, what I really want is for you to be happy," Barricade said. "Yeah, I want a mentee. But I also care about what you want. You want a trine." When Bluestreak nodded, Barricade kissed him. "I promised you we'd be trined before we applied for a mentee. I know that's important to you. And... I promised your mentors that we'd find a third, too." Barricade smiled. "I really don't want to make Lightbraid mad at me. She could probably beat me in a fight."

Bluestreak finally laughed. "Yeah, she probably could," he said. "But you're bonded to me, not her. I just worry that we're going to go years and decades and centuries looking for a mech who might not even exist. I don't want to settle for a mech who isn't really suitable, but I don't want to make you wait forever, either." He grimaced. "You're more important to me than any tradition."

"I'll tell you what," Barricade said. He grabbed one of Bluestreak's hands and held it tightly. "What if we set a deadline? Say, another eight years. In eight years we'll have been looking for fifteen years. Which isn't that long, to be honest," Barricade said with a smile. "We did have a bit of a whirlwind courting."

"I suppose," Bluestreak said glumly, still feeling the sting of knowing that his desires were standing in the way of Barricade's.

"So after eight years, if we haven't found anyone, we'll take a look at our lives here – you know, at our jobs and finances and housing and everything - and if we think we're ready to welcome a new build into our lives, and we can afford the minimum requirements, we'll submit a petition to Vector Sigma." Barricade's presence in Bluestreak's spark practically quivered with excitement at the thought of having a mentee of their very own. "But until then, we'll keep looking. And just maybe we'll get lucky."

Bluestreak thought for a moment. Barricade's suggestion **did** make sense. And putting an end date on their search in the event they were not successful helped mollify the guilt that had been creeping around Bluestreak's spark all evening.

Finally, Bluestreak nodded. "All right," he said. "We'll give it eight more years." He smiled at Barricade. "Maybe we'll get lucky."


	10. The Perfect Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barricade meets a mech named Prowl.

Another five years passed, almost without either of them noticing the passage of time. And in those five years, they had gone on a grand total of one date with one other mech.

It wasn't as if they weren't looking, either. But going to clubs and bars and keeping their optics open for unattached Praxians everywhere they went had become exhausting. The idea that they could just go out and enjoy themselves (or just stay home!) without worrying about looking for a potential mate seemed revolutionary after being on the hunt for so long. Bluestreak actually found himself relaxing and having fun on their nights out again.

It was a refreshing change of pace.

The one mech they'd found had been a courier that Bluestreak had met when she made a delivery to his office. Gearslip was soft-spoken, had cute petite sensor wings, and had an understated humour that Bluestreak liked. But after having drinks with her on their first date, he realized that they had very little in common. And he was positive that Barricade would find her extremely dull.

"Like I said, there's no pressure," Barricade said later that evening after Bluestreak explained why he was home so early. "We either find someone or we don't. And if we reach the deadline and we haven't found someone, we'll re-evaluate."

It was a sensible plan. And it was the plan that Bluestreak had agreed to. It made him feel better, knowing that if they didn't find anyone, they would still apply for a new build.

But he couldn't help the tiny shred of hope that they would find a third, eventually. Even if the odds seemed stacked against them.

It was on a late afternoon, about a year after Bluestreak's single date with Gearslip, that he received an unexpected comm from Barricade. Bluestreak was just packing up at the end of his work day, feeling pleased with himself for the number of reports he was able to work through for Urzul to review in the morning. "Hi, Cade," Bluestreak said when he got the ping from Barricade. "I'm running a little late. I'm just leaving the office now."

"That's perfect, actually. I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be home pretty late tonight, too," Barricade said. "I'm going out for drinks with someone."

There was something odd in Barricade's voice, so Bluestreak focused on their bond. He smiled when he felt the buzz of excitement coming from his partner. "Drinks, huh?" Bluestreak said. "Why do I get the feeling you're not just going out with one of your coworkers?"

Barricade made a sound of agreement. "You're right. He's an Iacon Enforcer. I just met him today. They were here doing some security drills with us, and we got to talking. His name's Prowl. He's Praxian." Bluestreak could practically hear the smile on Barricade's face. "I think you're really going to like him. But I will definitely let you know how it goes when I get home."

Bluestreak laughed. "It sounds promising," he said, reinforcing his words with a caress of anticipation through the bond. "Have a good time. I'll see you tonight, then."

"Thanks, Blue," Barricade said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Bluestreak replied, and closed the comm line.

Coming home to an empty apartment wasn't that strange. With Barricade's rotating shifts, Bluestreak spent his evenings alone one month out of every three. He had been looking forward to watching the new episode of the drama they both liked tonight, but the thought of finally completing their trine made Bluestreak a bit excited... Even if he wasn't the one on the date.

He settled on the couch with a cube of fuel and the book he'd been reading. And while he wasn't trying to eavesdrop on the bond, he was curious about this new mech. Barricade's enthusiasm about Prowl was infectious, and Bluestreak found himself wanting to know more about this Enforcer that Barricade had met. So he kept a part of his attention on anything specific he felt from Barricade.

Barricade, for his part, seemed happy. As the evening progressed, Bluestreak felt little peaks of amusement and a slow wave of contentment. Whatever this mech was like, Barricade seemed to be enjoying himself.

Bluestreak just hoped that this mech didn't turn out to be like any of the other disasters they'd dated so far.

But worrying about that now wouldn't help anything. Or, at least, that's what he told himself. Bluestreak arranged his sensor wings more comfortably over the back of the couch, and focused on his reading.

It wasn't terribly late when Bluestreak heard the chime of their flat door opening. "Blue? You still up?" he heard Barricade call from the hallway.

"I'm in here," Bluestreak said, and set his data pad aside. He smiled when Barricade sauntered into the room. "So I'm guessing the date went well?" he asked.

Barricade threw himself onto the couch beside Bluestreak and wrapped his arms around him. "Blue, you're going to **love** him," he said. "He's clever and has this understated dry wit and he is **so** smart. And he's pretty easy on the optics, too. He's got a gorgeous face, and wings to die for." Barricade's own wings fluttered behind him, and he grinned. "I've got another date with him in two days. We're going to go to that new restaurant over by the Undergrid tunnel, and then go for a drive up to Nova Point. He said there's a building with a highpark there where you can see the sunset, and it's just stunning."

Bluestreak leaned an arm on the back of the couch. "I'm glad you like him. He sounds really nice." He hesitated, and then added, "But I remember thinking the same things about all the other mechs we've gone out with."

"I knew you were going to say that," Barricade said, and patted Bluestreak's leg. "But Prowl feels different. Something about him make me feel really comfortable, in a way that the others didn't."

Bluestreak frowned. "You really liked Haywire." He took Barricade's hand and held it. "We both did."

"True." Barricade nodded. "But I wonder how much of that was because I was starting to get anxious about finding someone... About finding the third that I'd promised you." He shrugged. "And now that we've decided to stop actively looking, and just set a deadline to go before Vector Sigma, the pressure's off." He smiled again. "I think the thing that makes me more comfortable with Prowl is that I didn't see him as a potential mate first. He was just a nice mech who I got to chatting with." His smile grew. "And I didn't tell you this, but he's the one who asked me out, not the other way around."

Bluestreak's brow ridges rose at that. "Really?" One of the most painful things about their hunt for a trinemate was asking out all those dozens and dozens of mechs. All the rejections and all of the awkward conversations that went nowhere had started to get pretty demoralizing. Maybe they **had** started to 'settle' for mechs who they knew would say yes. "Even with your stripes?" he asked, pointing at the bonding stripes on the lower edge of Barricade's sensor wing.

"Funny thing," Barricade said. "That's what got us talking about going on a date in the first place. You were the topic of conversation." When Bluestreak made a noise of surprise, Barricade smiled. "We were just chatting during one of the breaks in our training exercises, and he mentioned that he hadn't seen a lot of mechs with bonding stripes in Iacon. And then he asked about you." Barricade grinned. "I might have gushed a bit about you, and how successful you've been since moving here."

Bluestreak felt his face flush, but he smiled. "So you used me as bait. Fine. Then what?"

"He said that getting a job as a Senatorial Guard was a pretty good accomplishment too, especially since I mentioned I'd done it before getting my specialization certificate," Barricade said. He ducked his helm slightly like he always did when talking about his own successes. "And then the next thing I knew he was asking me out for drinks after work."

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time," Bluestreak said. He vented softly. "Just... Let's be careful, all right? We've both been through some slag trying to find someone who'll fit both of us." Bluestreak shook Barricade's hand emphatically as he added, "I don't want **either** of us to get hurt again."

"Agreed. Let's be careful," Barricade said, but then grinned again. "But I don't think we have anything to worry about with Prowl. I honestly think he's **perfect**."

* * *

Barricade went on a second date with Prowl, which seemed to go just as well as the first one. Barricade had taken Prowl to his favourite race track, and the two of them spent hours trying to best each other. It turned out they were fairly evenly matched, something that made Barricade send waves of pleasure and pride through the bond. That pleasure only increased when Prowl kissed Barricade, which thoroughly distracted Bluestreak from the reports he'd brought home from work.

Not that he was complaining.

At the end of that second date, Prowl invited Barricade over to his place for an evening. Barricade said that Prowl wanted them to get to know each other in a more private setting, and 'perhaps even explore our options for intimacy'."

"He actually said it that way?" Bluestreak replied with a laugh when Barricade told him about the conversation.

"I think he was trying to find a polite way to say 'I wanna frag' because that's not really his style of speaking," Barricade said. "But I wanted to talk to you before accepting." Barricade took Bluestreak's hands in his. "Did you want to come? I told him that might be a possibility. He's actually looking forward to meeting you, so he didn't mind." He grinned. "I really can't wait to hear what you think about him."

Bluestreak smiled. "I'm looking forward to meeting him, too," he said. Then he hummed thoughtfully. "But I have a late afternoon meeting that day." Bluestreak chewed on his lower lip for a moment as he considered his options. "We're finally setting up the second office in Praxus, and we have interviews with a bunch of mechs. After we're done with the interviews Urzul wants to go over all of the candidates while it's still fresh in her mind." He shrugged. "Organics can't just review memories like we can. But that means I'm going to be late getting out of the office, and I can't skip this."

There was a waft of disappointment from Barricade, but then he shrugged. "I can ask Prowl to reschedule. Or we really could just watch a movie like he suggested." Barricade smiled. "I honestly don't think he's going to pull a Haywire on me."

Bluestreak frowned. He knew how excited Barricade was about each of his previous dates with Prowl, and this one was no different. And to be perfectly honest, Bluestreak was excited, too, and he wanted everything to go well. "He lives way over in Memnon Heights, doesn't he?" Bluestreak finally asked. When Barricade nodded, Bluestreak sighed. "I was thinking about just driving over there after my meeting, but it would take me forever to get there. Especially with the traffic at that time of day." He thought for another minute, then said, "What if I pinged you when I got home, and once I'm safely here, you're free to find out what he's like in the berth." He smiled. "To be honest, I'm sort of curious what it's like being on the receiving end of what you got while I was with Cameo."

Barricade's sensor wings shot up in surprise, then he swept Bluestreak up in his arms and swung him around with the strength that always caught Bluestreak by surprise. "Thank you!" Barricade said, peppering Bluestreak with kisses. "And if this goes well I'm going to get the two of you together, so you can get to know him and..." He put Bluestreak down, and the smile on his face was one of the happiest Bluestreak had seen on him in a while. "I just know you're going to love him."

"We'll see," Bluestreak said, but he returned Barricade's smile. "You've talked him up an awful lot. But I'm really looking forward to meeting him."

On the night of Barricade's third date with Prowl, Bluestreak slipped into their flat and flicked on the lights. He felt very tired; his energy and fuel reserves were just fine, but he was mentally exhausted. Nine interviews and a lengthy discussion about each candidate with Urzul seemed to have drained all of the processing power from him. It was probably a good thing that he decided not to brave the traffic and drive over to Prowl's place.

He pinged Barricade to indicate he was home, and received an immediate ping in response. Bluestreak smiled as he put a cube of fuel in the warmer. Barricade had arrived at Prowl's home about an hour earlier, and on his drive home from the office Bluestreak had felt a constant hum of eagerness from his partner. Now, the hum had grown to a buzz. As he pulled his fuel out of the warmer, the buzz deepened.

After sending a burst of amusement to Barricade, Bluestreak settled on the couch with some reading material. Maybe he could finally finish his book before Barricade got home.

But it wasn't more than ten minutes later when Bluestreak grew overly distracted by the emotions he was sensing from Barricade. There was pleasure, and then arousal, and then he could feel the sweet taste of lust coming over the bond.

Prowl's home was on the far side of Iacon from where they lived, so only the strongest emotions were coming over the bond. But even the faint taste of Barricade's obviously charged up state was enough for Bluestreak's hand to drift down to his own interface panel on its own accord. When he realized he was slowly stroking down the sides of his modesty panel the same way that Barricade did, he set his reading aside. Leaning his helm back on the couch, Bluestreak closed his optics so he could focus on the bond instead.

It had definitely been a good thing that he'd asked Barricade to wait until he got home.

He opened his panel and stroked two fingers down the side of his valve. Bluestreak pictured how Barricade looked when Bluestreak did that to him: optics half closed and the silly, happy grin on his face.

Slipping one finger and then another inside his valve, Bluestreak flicked his anterior node with his thumb and shivered at the sensation. Across the city, he could feel Barricade's charge notch higher, and Bluestreak wondered whether it was because of what Prowl was doing or what he was doing to his own valve. Then again, remembering his own experience with Cameo, it was probably a combination of the two.

Two fingers fit inside of him easily, and something in him (something in the bond?) wanted more. He added a third finger, slowly sliding them out and back in, spreading them slightly in a stretch while he scratched a finger around the circumference of one of his headlights.

Another increase in excitement from Barricade, and suddenly Bluestreak was pumping his fingers in and out of his valve in a slow but firm motion. With every stroke of his hand, he flicked his node, and his hips jerked involuntarily with every touch.

More. **More!**

Finally he jammed his fingers deep into his valve, adding a fourth to cause a delightful sting as his mesh stretched to accommodate it, and he used his other hand to itch at his anterior node. Yes. Yes! **Yes!** He stared sightlessly up at the ceiling as his ventilations came in ragged gasps, each wave of charge rising and falling and rising higher than the last, until at last his body felt as thought it was being consumed by a level of charge that was impossible for his systems to handle.

And over the bond, he felt Barricade tip over the edge right alongside him.

As he lay on the couch enjoying the blissful ennui that came over him after an especially good overload, Bluestreak felt the purr of contentment and delight from Barricade. Bluestreak sent him as strong a burst of affection as he could manage over the distance, and he felt a happy echo from Barricade.

Then Bluestreak looked at his sticky fingers, and the mess he'd made on the couch. It would probably be a good idea to clean that up before it dried.

About an hour later Bluestreak received a ping from Barricade that he was on his way home. He opened a comm line to Barricade. "You know you don't have to come home if you're still having a good time," Bluestreak assured Barricade as soon as he answered.

"I know," Barricade said. "But I want to tell you about this **now**."

There was a low rumble to his voice that made Bluestreak's knees quiver, and he smiled. He could still feel the tang of desire over the bond, and he felt his own charge tick slightly upwards once more. "All right," he said, smiling. "I'll see you when you get here."

So as soon as Barricade walked into the door, Bluestreak was there, pushing the door closed and kissing him. Barricade tasted like copper and bismuth, sweet and tangy. "So," Bluestreak said, rubbing his hands down Barricade's sides. "Tell me all about it."

"He's fantastic, Blue, just like I told you," Barricade said. He gasped as Bluestreak nipped at his neck. "We were watching a movie – it was a historical romance, I think you would have liked it – and I got your ping and told him that you were home, and he pounced on me."

"Pounced?" Bluestreak asked. He spun, turning Barricade around and pushing him against the wall. "Like this?"

Barricade's engine revved. "Yeah," he gasped as Bluestreak kissed upwards and licked the length of his chevron. "Slag, Blue, I can't **think** when you do that." When Bluestreak stopped and looked at him, he exclaimed, "But I didn't say stop!"

Bluestreak laughed and repeated the motion, then licked the other side of his chevron. "Where were you?" Bluestreak asked. "On the couch?"

"No," Barricade said, and the burst of lust that came over the bond made Bluestreak groan. "I mean, we started off there. He's such a good kisser, have I told you that? We were kissing and touching each other and he found out how much I like having my wing hinges touched..." His voice crackled with static as Bluestreak did just that, dragging a hand down the bumps of his left hinge. "And then he asked if I wanted to spike or not, and I said no, and that's when he pressurized his spike and..." Barricade grabbed Bluestreak's helm between his hands. "Blue, his spike is amazing."

"Amazing, huh?" Bluestreak said, smiling and twisting his head to kiss Barricade's palm. "Does it do tricks?"

Barricade shook his helm. "No, but it's huge, like not scary big but it's thick and he has these ridges on it and then we... He..." Another shock of charge crackled through Barricade's circuits, snapping across his transformation seams in a bright visual display of his charged up state. He arched his chest into Bluestreak's with a shudder. "Aaah... Primus! We were going to go into his bedroom b-but we didn't make it, and..."

"And?" Bluestreak was having trouble concentrating on Barricade's story. His hand slipped lower, and he discovered that Barricade's interface panel had slid aside. His fingers traced the outer folds of Barricade's valve lips, puffy with arousal, and he felt a sticky wetness there. His optics widened, and he dipped a finger between those folds to find a foreign, hot, thick dampness. "Cade?" Bluestreak asked, his voice sounding choked even to him as he struggled to speak through his rising charge. "And then what?"

"He pushed me down onto a table and fragged me," Barricade said, and his voice was almost unintelligible through the static. He rocked his hips forward, encouraging Bluestreak to slide his fingers deeper. "Blue, it was amazing, and then I could feel you too and... Oh Primus it was so hot having both of you with me, him on my back and you in my spark and-"

It was Bluestreak's engine that revved this time. He turned again, dragging Barricade the few steps into their living area, and he spun Barricade around. "Like this?" he said roughly, shoving Barricade face-down onto the table surface. "Did he do it like this?" His hand slid between Barricade's legs again, finding that hot wet valve and slipping his fingers into it again, dipping them into the transfluid that had been left there, inside **his** bond mate, left by another mech.

Bluestreak's cooling fans roared.

"Yes," Barricade moaned, and canted his hips upwards. "Blue, it was amazing, his spike is perfect, and you were there with me and-" His voice garbled into a squeal of feedback as Bluestreak slid his spike into that dripping valve.

It felt very slightly different. It almost felt used, and Bluestreak bent over Barricade's back as he made that realization, covering him completely. "I can feel him in you, you know," Bluestreak purred into Barricade's audial. "I can feel what he left inside you." Barricade moaned deliriously as Bluestreak thrust into him again. "If his spike is perfect, does that mean mine isn't? Are you only going to want his now?" He coloured his words with amusement and just a hint of possessiveness, stroking down Barricade's door hinges to make his engine squeal.

"No, no, yours is perfect too, I've always loved your spike, you know that," Barricade said, his words running together as his charge rose higher. He began to babble as Bluestreak began pounding into him, shoving him into the surface of the table harder and harder. "Oh frag I love it when you spike me and oh slag yes **yes** do that again, do it harder, Blue, please _please_ **please plea** -"

Barricade overloaded hard, face down on the table, his valve clamping down rhythmically on Bluestreak spike as his voice turned to static and his hands clawed at the table surface. Bluestreak swore as he felt Barricade's charge crest, pinging across the bond and dragging him with it. He bowed over Barricade's back as he thrust into his partner one last time, his hips twitching as he filled Barricade's valve with his own transfluid.

Bluestreak sagged against Barricade's back for a moment before kissing the back of his neck and gingerly standing up straight. "Are you all right?" he asked as Barricade continued to lay on the table's surface.

"Guh." Barricade's optics were off, but his fans were running loud. "I'm just waiting for my motor controls to come back online."

Bluestreak laughed and pulled Barricade upright. "That was slagging hot, you know," he murmured into Barricade's audial. "Coming home to me, still all charged up, with a valve full of Prowl's transfluid..." He nuzzled Barricade's helm, then reached down to cup his fingers beneath Barricade's valve. His fingers were drenched in a mélange of transfluid (his and Prowls!) and lubricant, and Bluestreak felt his cooling fans reset as his charge ticked upwards once more. "Messy, but very hot."

Barricade sagged backwards into Bluestreak's arms, but turned his helm to smile at him. "Wait until you meet him," he said with a smile. "Then you'll really understand what hot is."

Bluestreak kissed Barricade, then tugged on his arm. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up so I can get you all sticky again."

Barricade laughed at that, but didn't resist as Bluestreak led him towards the wash rack.


	11. Meeting Prowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak meets Prowl, and it goes well. Very well.

Bluestreak's first date with Prowl was basically just drinks. Typically, Barricade would have gone with Bluestreak to introduce them and get them started talking to one another, but Barricade had moved back to afternoons and wasn't available in the evening. That was fine with Bluestreak; it let him get his own first impressions of the mech.

Prowl was a bit taller than Bluestreak. He had ice blue optics, a very basic white and black colour scheme, and a hint of power in his movements that Bluestreak couldn't quite put his finger on. He exuded a calm and commanding demeanor, but had quick flashes of wit and humour that were very appealing.

Bluestreak completely understood what Barricade was talking about when he called Prowl hot.

After they chatted for a little while, getting the feel of one another, Bluestreak ordered them another round of drinks. Their budget was going to feel this later, but he didn't want to appear cheap. As they waited for their orders to arrive, he said, "Barricade is very taken with you."

"The feeling is mutual, to be sure" Prowl said. He glanced up as their drinks arrived, and waited for the serving drone to leave before continuing. "He has a great presence about him: strong, quick-witted, caring, and with a flare for the dramatic." Prowl smiled with Bluestreak chuckled at that. "Did I hit on something there?"

"Well, you haven't said anything I'm disagreeing with," Bluestreak said. "But another way of saying 'quick-witted with a flare for the dramatic' is 'slag-disturber.' I don't know how many times he's caused little dustups at work by stirring things up."

"Really." Prowl leaned forward, a half-smile playing on his lips. It was intense and focused, and Bluestreak felt as though the Enforcer could see right through him. "Tell me more."

Bluestreak hesitated, wondering if he should be airing Barricade's foibles to an Enforcer. Then again, Barricade had already fragged this particular Enforcer. And the whole point of these dates was to see if Prowl was compatible with Bluestreak as well. Besides, if Prowl decided that Barricade's indiscretions at work were too much for him to deal with, Bluestreak wanted to know that sooner rather than later. He wasn't ready to have his spark (or, more importantly, Barricade's spark) broken again.

Finally Bluestreak shrugged. "He's always had a thing about authority, questioning things and wanting to know why something is the way it is. He was like that when we were in school, and that continued on at work. As you can guess, questioning things as part of the Senatorial Guard isn't great for your career," Bluestreak said.

"I can imagine," Prowl said.

"So he's learned to get others to do his dirty work for him, as he calls it," Bluestreak said. "If there's something bugging him, he starts talking about it with his coworkers. He'll find one coworker who's just as bugged about the thing as he is. Then he works on getting that coworker all riled up about it, until finally the coworker will go storming off to management to get answers or try to get a policy changed or whatever else Barricade put into his processor." Bluestreak smiled. "That way he gets what he wants, but lets someone else take the fall for it if it goes poorly."

Prowl said nothing for a moment and simply stared at his drink, and Bluestreak thought that maybe he'd overstepped. Maybe Prowl was wondering whether this was someone he really wanted to be involved with. Maybe Prowl was now regretting asking Barricade out in the first place.

His anxiety must have been oozing into the bond, since he got a questioning prod from Barricade. Bluestreak quickly sent Barricade a brush of reassurance and tried to school his emotions – and his wings, which he realized were flicking back and forth behind him.

But just then Prowl looked up from his drink and smiled. "It's strange to see so much of myself in Barricade," he said. "Except where I try to keep those impulses in check, Barricade rolls ahead and does them anyway." His sensor wings swiveled behind him in amusement. "And... I may have done the same sort of thing in my department. Except when I do it, it's the supervisor above me who I get riled up." Prowl's smile grew. "It's much more effective that way."

Bluestreak laughed out loud, relieved that he hadn't messed things up. "You and Barricade are going to be complete menaces together," he said.

Prowl chuckled quietly, and Bluestreak took a moment to appreciate the understated way Prowl reacted to things. It was hard not to directly compare him with Barricade, Prowl's subtle humour contrasted to Barricade's raucous laughter. Bluestreak could see Prowl being scheming, while Barricade was openly mischievous. And there was Prowl's small smile, his mouth just barely turning upwards at the corners, while Barricade had a wide and dentae-filled grin.

If this worked, Bluestreak would be caught between quiet and loud, between shrewd and impulsive, between white and black. As he watched Prowl sip carefully at the expensive triple-distilled engex he'd ordered, Bluestreak thought being stuck between those two extremes might not be so bad.

"So what made you ask Barricade out?" Bluestreak asked.

Prowl's sensor wings didn't move at all: that was another difference between him and Barricade. But his brow ridges rose slightly. "Truthfully, asking him out wasn't my original intention," Prowl said. When Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side, Prowl went on. "I only intended to ask him out for drinks, **just** drinks, only so that we could continue the conversation we'd begun while on a break from our security exercises. I mentioned his bonding stripes, and he started talking about you..." Prowl's striking optics met Bluestreak's evenly. "He is obviously very devoted to you. He loves you very much. That much was clear."

Bluestreak felt his face flush slightly. "We're a good pair," he said. "It's a strong bond. And whatever he feels for me is returned, absolutely."

Prowl nodded slightly, still smiling. "I honestly haven't been looking for anyone. My work is very important to me, so I haven't had a lot of spare cycles to devote to even thinking about finding a partner... And especially not a trine. So when I saw a mech who was so obviously smitten with his existing bond mate mention that the two of you were looking for a third, I got curious."

"So you went from not looking for a partner at all, to 'facing a potential bond mate on the third date?" Bluestreak asked with a laugh. Before Prowl could do more than hold up a hand as if in apology, Bluestreak waved him off. "It's fine. I just find it sort of funny, considering how quickly our own courtship went."

Prowl's smile returned. "Barricade can be very persuasive."

"You have no idea." Bluestreak took a sip from his glass. "At least you waited until the third date, after all."

"Oh?" Prowl said. "And how long did the two of you wait?"

"Well, we'd known each other for years before we started dating, but... Technically, we 'faced on the first date." When Prowl laughed, Bluestreak added, "Like you said, Cade can be very persuasive."

For as impatient as Barricade was for Bluestreak to decide whether Prowl was going to be a good match, he was willing to wait for Bluestreak to make a decision. "I think we both had a good feeling about him, right?" Barricade said when he saw him off in the morning. When Bluestreak nodded, Barricade hugged him. "I'm so happy. I don't want to do anything to mess this up. I haven't felt this certain about anything since... Well, since we first met."

"Really?" Bluestreak looked at Barricade closely. "You didn't feel like this with anyone else? Not even Haywire?"

Barricade shook his helm. "Nope. Just you, and now Prowl." He hugged Bluestreak. "I can't even begin to explain how excited I am about this."

Smiling, Bluestreak smoothed his hand down Barricade's chest. "You don't have to," he said. "I can feel it."

Bluestreak's and Prowl's second date was actually Barricade's idea: to go to a shooting range. "He's an Enforcer, and you've always been a good shot," he said. "And yes, I am hoping it's something you'll have in common."

It was on their third round at the targets that Prowl stepped up beside Bluestreak after he was done shooting. "You are very good at this," Prowl said as Bluestreak checked his rifle to make sure the safety was on before stepping back away from the firing line.

Bluestreak shrugged and handed his rifle back to the attendant. "You're not the first one to say that," he said. "When I was doing my basic programming instruction, before I got my final upgrades, the instructors noted that I had very good aim. They recommended me for a military or law enforcement specialization. Even Lightbraid, one of my mentors, encouraged me to apply to the Praxus Enforcer Academy." He smiled. "I think she wanted me to follow in her tracks. She's a commander with the Praxian Civil Defense Corps."

Prowl's optics widened slightly. "Commander Lightbraid? I've heard of her. She has an extremely good reputation. I had no idea you were her mentee." He selected a new rifle from the counter and ran his hand along its barrel. "So why didn't you follow her recommendation?"

Bluestreak followed Prowl back to their stall. "It just didn't interest me," he said. "It's not in my nature, I guess. Violence." When Prowl glanced at him, he lifted his wings apologetically. "I know that law enforcement isn't all subduing mechs or fighting or stuff like that. Trust me, Lightbraid told enough stories from work for me to understand that. It's just that I couldn't see myself doing what she does day in and day out. I wanted something a bit more predictable. Creating plans and carrying them out using the facts and figures presented to me just seemed a bit more interesting."

Prowl paused. "Interesting. Yes. I've been finding the day to day policing getting a bit tiring, for those same reasons. The chaos of the streets was interesting when I was a rookie, but now I find myself wanting a job that was a bit more predictable. I've thought about applying for tactical training."

Bluestreak smiled. "Barricade's been taking courses through the Senatorial Guard in Intelligence. Maybe the two of you could study together."

"That would be nice, I think," Prowl replied. He slotted a new magazine into his rifle. "But if you ever decide to switch careers, let me know. I can guide you to the appropriate training. The Enforcers could always use good sharpshooters in our ranks. A truly skilled sniper is difficult to find."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bluestreak said, and then stepped back out of the stall so that Prowl could take his turn.

Bluestreak enjoyed his time at the firing range; letting his mind go quiet while his processor calculated all the data necessary to make a good shot was relaxing. But Bluestreak couldn't ever see himself using firearms in any official capacity.

It just wasn't in his nature.

* * *

For their third date, Bluestreak invited Prowl over to their place. Barricade would be home, all three of them had that night and the next morning off, and Bluestreak had not danced around the reason they wanted Prowl to come over. "I like you," he'd told Prowl at the end of their second date. "And Barricade likes you so much that I think he's going to blow a fuse waiting for me to decide whether I want things to continue between us."

"And I can assume that you do want things to continue?" Prowl asked.

"I do," Bluestreak said. "So I think we should find out if we're all physically compatible in the way that Barricade really hopes that we are... And if we are, then maybe we can progress our relationship a bit further."

Prowl had smiled, and took one of Bluestreak's hands in his. "I'd like that," he said. He lifted his other hand towards Bluestreak's face and asked, "May I?"

Bluestreak nodded, his spark twirling happily in its casing.

Prowl's lips were firm, but his kiss felt almost as if he was asking permission for everything. The first brush of lip against lip was gentle, and when that was accepted, his glossa touched against Bluestreak's lower lip gingerly, as if tasting something unfamiliar for the first time. He apparently liked what he tasted, since the kiss progressed slowly until Bluestreak was clinging to Prowl's shoulders as he learned **exactly** what Barricade meant by Prowl being a good kisser.

When they finally broke apart, fans spinning fast, Bluestreak could feel nothing but happiness and delight from his bond mate.

So the day of their date with Prowl, Barricade spent most of the day cleaning their flat from top to bottom, while Bluestreak ordered a veritable feast from the nearby cafe that he and Barricade liked. And when Prowl finally arrived, he brought along a movie that he'd mentioned to Bluestreak on their first date.

They ended up not watching it.

Bluestreak and Barricade had been teasing each other all day, knowing what Prowl was coming over for. As their anticipation grew, so did a low-level charge between them. Each time they passed each other as they bustled around finishing their chores, they gave each other affectionate touches: a stroke against a wing panel here, a squeeze of an aft there.

You could practically taste the charge in the air, and when Barricade opened the door for Prowl, the Enforcer smiled. "Don't tell me that you started without me," he said with a twitch of his sensor wings. He leaned in to first kiss Barricade hello, then Bluestreak. "Although I wouldn't complain if you had."

They **did** consume some of the dinner that Bluestreak had ordered. And they **did** talk about the latest news of the day, the Cybertron First riots that had spread to Vos, and they discussed whether any of the group's anti-Senate sentiments would be seen here in Iacon. And they **did** find that one of Barricade's and one of Prowl's mentors probably knew each other, since they both worked at the cargo transiting station in Praxus.

But before long, Bluestreak realized that they were sitting closer and closer together as they talked. A hand on the knee as you made a point. A gentle rub on a shoulder while listening to the other speak. A gaze held just a moment longer than would have been polite with someone who wasn't a close friend.

Bluestreak marveled at how comfortable it felt, how natural. And he could feel the anticipation building within Barricade.

But it was Prowl who finally made the first move. He took Barricade's and Bluestreak's hands in his, and looked at them both with a smile. "I have to admit that I've been running overrides on my interface systems ever since I arrived," he said. "I don't think that the two of you understand what you're doing to me."

Barricade grinned. "Oh... I think have an idea what we're doing."

And that's when they decided to move their conversation to the bedroom.

Barricade practically threw himself onto the berth, pulling Prowl and Bluestreak down beside him. "I know exactly what I want to do," Barricade said. "I've been thinking about this ever since I saw Prowl's spike."

"Oh, really?" Prowl asked. He kissed the side of Barricade's helm. "Don't we get a say in this?"

"Of course. But I don't think you're going to protest too hard." Barricade turned his helm to kiss Prowl's lips, then looked at Bluestreak. "I want a spike in my mouth and a spike in my valve," he said. "I want to be sandwiched between the two prettiest mechs I know."

"How come this gets to be all about you?" Bluestreak asked, but he smiled. He could feel how charged Barricade was getting just thinking about this, and Barricade had already told him what he wanted to do the first time he got him and Prowl into the same berth. "What do I get out of this?"

"You get your spike sucked, the way I know you like, and you can kiss Prowl while he's fragging my valve," Barricade said, sounding very matter-of-fact. "I think that sounds like a win-win for you."

Bluestreak had to admit that he agreed.

It didn't work out quite the way that Barricade pictured. Barricade was tall enough that Bluestreak and Prowl couldn't quite reach other, not enough to kiss, anyway. But the view was amazing. Seeing Barricade's mouth working on his spike and seeing Prowl's (admittedly amazingly thick) spike vanishing into Barricade's valve was almost enough to send Bluestreak over all on its own. But adding in the feeling of Barricade's lips and glossa sliding up and down his spike, and the almost overwhelming sensory echo of Barricade's valve being stretched wide by Prowl's spike meant that it wasn't long before Bluestreak was bowing his helm over Barricade's back while shooting his transfluid down his intake, and Barricade was shuddering beneath him as the overload ricocheted back to him, pushing him over as well.

Prowl, not linked into their bond, did not overload along with them, but Bluestreak was happy to take a turn with his spike. And while on his back, with Prowl's thick spike sunk deep into his valve and Barricade curled beside him while narrating the scene in the most obscene way he could, Bluestreak looked up into Prowl's deep blue optics. In that moment, Bluestreak suddenly knew, deep in his spark, that this could work.

The rest of the night passed in a heated blur. Bluestreak had a solid enough grasp of math that he knew they hadn't exhausted every possible permutation, but they had definitely tried a large number of positions before they found themselves tangled in a sticky and hot pile on the berth. Barricade had managed to get in the middle of them again, and held both Bluestreak and Prowl against him tightly. Bluestreak rested his helm on Barricade's shoulder, while Prowl had pillowed his chin on a hand, balanced on Barricade's chest, and was looking at the two of them thoughtfully.

While Bluestreak was considering getting up to fetch all of them some leftovers from dinner, Barricade onlined his optics and looked at him. Bluestreak could feel Barricade's contentment, and he couldn't help but smile at the little quiver of joy from Barricade when his optics shifted to look at Prowl.

But Prowl was a blank spot. Bluestreak couldn't sense anything about what Prowl was feeling. However, the tiny flutters of his sensor wings and the soft smile on his lips told him enough.

Prowl looked like a mech smitten.

"The two of you really are amazing," Prowl said. "I wasn't looking for mates, but suddenly two mechs who seem just about perfect to me fall right into my lap." His sensor wings gave a more pronounced flutter. "If I was religious, I'd be thanking Primus for leading me to you."

Barricade glanced at Bluestreak again as if to confirm what he could plainly feel, then said, "I think we feel the same." He tightened his arm around Prowl. "And I hope you understand how incredibly happy that makes us."


	12. Two Proposals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade ask Prowl to move in with them... And then they ask for a bit more.

They asked Prowl to move in with them a month later.

It was Bluestreak's idea to sit down together at the table in their living area, but Barricade insisted that Bluestreak do most of the talking. "I'm going to be so nervous," he said when they were waiting for Prowl to arrive. "What if he says no?"

"I don't think he will," Bluestreak replied, but he carefully narrowed the bond to keep his own doubt from creeping over their connection.

After all, they weren't just asking Prowl to move in. Not really.

"You know that we're looking for a third," Bluestreak said after they were all seated, with Bluestreak and Barricade on one side of the table, and Prowl on the other. It felt a little too much like the candidate interviews Bluestreak had done at work, but changing seats now would be awkward, so he plowed onward. "And I hope you know that we are very interested in you, and we hope that you will be that third for our trine."

Prowl nodded, his expression solemn. "Your interest is reciprocated, to be sure," he replied.

Behind him, his wings gave an almost imperceptible flutter.

"And you also know that once we're trined, we would like to apply to Vector Sigma," Bluestreak said. He glanced at Barricade, sensing his partner's turbulent emotions, and squeezed his hand. "Barricade has wanted a mentee for years. And... I want one, too." When Prowl nodded again, Bluestreak continued. "So we would like to propose an arrangement with you: for you to move in with us, with the intention of bonding within three years."

"Three years?" Prowl's sensor wings flicked upwards. "That is very specific."

Bluestreak smiled. "Before we met you, we'd set ourselves a time frame in which to find a third. Three years would mark that deadline. Hence the timeframe."

After considering this for a moment, Prowl asked, "What if, in three years, we decide that a bond would not be suitable, or we aren't certain yet?"

"Then we'll apply for a mentee as a pair," Bluestreak said.

"Why not just apply for one now?" Prowl asked. "I mean, you would need a larger flat before applying, obviously, but if you lived more frugally you could probably afford a two-bedroom flat, even here in the city center."

It was a reasonable question, although the thought of living even more frugally than they were now made Bluestreak feel a bit anxious. They were already scrimping and saving as much as they could: cancelling non-essential services, buying a lower-quality recycled fuel, and limiting their entertainment to things that were very inexpensive or free. On the other hand, they could move out to the outskirts of the city, where Prowl lived, and save a lot on their living costs. But they would spend so much time commuting they'd be lucky to see each other at all.

It was a hard decision.

But Barricade answered Prowl's question before Bluestreak could formulate an answer. "Because I promised Bluestreak we'd trine before we applied," he said firmly. "He was adamant that he wanted to raise a new build with three mentors. That is important to him." Barricade looked at Bluestreak and smiled, his adoration shining through his optics and the bond. "And my promises to him are more important to me than anything else."

Bluestreak felt a twist of guilt inside of him, an emotion that he quickly smothered before it could leak over the bond. He knew how much Barricade wanted a new build of his own. Slag, he'd been talking about it even when they were in school. Even though they'd put in place the deadline for applying for a new build, knowing that his wishes were the main reason they hadn't applied yet made Bluestreak feel terrible.

Loved and respected, but terrible.

But Prowl was smiling at Barricade's answer. "That's one of the things that I really like about the two of you," he said. "Seeing how devoted you are to one another makes me feel incredibly happy. And I hope that I get the chance to show the two of you the same sort of devotion some day." He glanced down at the table, and for the very first time Bluestreak saw the stoic mech look flustered. "I know that Praxians tend to be conditioned to trine, but I never really thought much about it... Until I met the two of you."

"We've told you about some of the slag we've been through looking for a third," Barricade said. "And I mean it when I say you are absolutely the best thing to happen to us since we started looking."

Bluestreak watched as Prowl seemed to examine the surface of the table in detail. "Cade's right," he said. When Prowl's wings twitched, he added, "So? What do you say?"

Prowl seemed to gather himself, and when he looked up again his expression was serious once more. "I accept, but with one condition that I hope you consider to be acceptable," he said.

Bluestreak felt Barricade's anxiety rise, and Bluestreak squeezed his partner's hand again comfortingly. "Go on," he said.

"We'll need to find a larger flat," Prowl said. He glanced around the room appraisingly. "I like your place. It has a good layout, and you couldn't ask for a better location. I just wish it was larger." He looked back at Bluestreak and Barricade. "My job entails shift work, as does Barricade's. I'm not totally sure how you have been working the recharging arrangements while Barricade is working afternoons or evenings, but with two of us doing the same we'll end up running into major conflicts in our schedules. So I suggest that we look for a flat that has at least three bedrooms... Four, if we can possibly afford it." He canted his sensor wings downwards. "I know that may seem like a lot of space, but..."

"Four bedrooms?" Barricade said. His sensor wings broadcasted the distress that Bluestreak could feel over the bond. "That's going to cost a fortune." He looked at Bluestreak, his brow creased with worry. "Where are we going to get the shanix for that? It feels like we're barely scraping by as it is."

"Three bedrooms would be a minimum," Prowl said. "After all, if you want to apply for a mentee, you'll need to guarantee that they have their own space." He pressed his lips together into a thin line and tipped his wings further downward. "I am simply trying to be practical. I apologize if I'm coming across as-"

"No, no. You're right. He's **right** , Cade," Bluestreak said, focusing on Barricade, who had started to protest. "If we want a new build, we'll need the extra bedroom anyway. Plus, if Prowl moves in and with two of you working those weird shifts, none of us would be getting the recharge we needed all the time." He patted Barricade's hand. "Think about it. If we all had separate bedrooms you wouldn't have to recharge on the couch at all." To be honest, his and Barricade's recharging schedules hadn't been in synch for a long time, and both of them had spent many nights (or days, in Barricade's case) recharging on the couch, or in vehicle mode in the darkened hallway. "It makes a lot of sense."

Barricade was staring at the surface of the table, his emotions an unreadable tumult in his spark. Finally he looked up at Prowl. "And bonding... Is three years is enough time for you?"

"Three years should be more than enough time for us to figure out if we're all compatible. But I have a good feeling we'll find that we are compatible," Prowl said with a confident nod. He reached across the table and grabbed one of Barricade's hands. "And then, once we're bonded and we're sure we can meet the minimum support requirements for a mentee, we can have our code review completed and apply to Vector Sigma." Prowl held his hand out to Bluestreak, who took it, and Prowl smiled at them both. "I can tell how much that means to both of you... And I think it's something that I want to be a part of."

Barricade stared at Prowl, then at Bluestreak. Like Luna 1 rising over the Manganese Mountains, the distress that Barricade had been broadcasting slowly gave way to hope. And as the hope grew in his spark, a smile grew on his face. "And then we'll have a new build?" He glanced at Prowl. "Is this really going to happen?"

"I've never seen myself as a mentor," Prowl said. "But then again, I never thought I'd find two mechs to trine with." His optics darted from Barricade to Bluestreak and back. "The two of you have made me question so many things that I thought I knew about myself... And I don't think that's a bad thing. So, yes... I hope this happens."

With a joyful laugh, Barricade launched himself over the table at Prowl, pulling him in for a hard, opened-mouthed kiss. He released Prowl and turned to Bluestreak, planting a similar kiss on his bond mate. "Primus, I hope so too!" he exclaimed as he released Bluestreak.

Bluestreak laughed, caught up in Barricade's delight, and saw Prowl laughing along with them.

* * *

"Look, this one has the exterior security Prowl wants, plus a built in entertainment unit and a fuel warmer," Bluestreak said, turning his data pad to show Barricade the listing. "And four bedrooms, for well within our budget!"

"Where is it?" Barricade asked without looking up from his pad.

"It's over in Lower Peptex." Bluestreak tried to sound nonchalant.

Barricade finally looked up from his data pad. He looked unimpressed. "And do you really want to commute from that far away? You might as well be living in Crystal City for that distance."

Bluestreak frowned and went back to his data pad. "It's not **that** far away," he muttered.

Finding a suitable flat was just as hard as it had been when Bluestreak had first moved to Iacon. Harder even, considering the new complications. First, there was their budget. After pooling their income and determining how much could be spent for housing, they found that it was not as dire as Barricade had first assumed. Prowl made more shanix as an Iacon Enforcer than Barricade had suspected. ("Maybe I went into the wrong line of work," Barricade had said to Bluestreak after Prowl had left their flat that night.) But the price jump between a one bedroom flat and a three bedroom was much larger than they'd anticipated.

Secondly, Prowl wanted dedicated security for whatever place they rented. "It doesn't happen often, but sometimes an Enforcer will be targeted by criminal elements, and tracked to their home," he had said. "The department recommends living someplace with security. Part of our salary is supposed to go towards enabling that option." So they had to look for a tower with a dedicated security desk, regular patrols, and exterior surveillance systems. That requirement alone increased the cost of a flat by almost a third.

Aside from wanting a large wash rack, Bluestreak had no real requirements. And Barricade just wanted a place they could afford that would make the other two happy.

But finding a suitable flat that wasn't in some distant corner of the city-state was proving to be the most difficult part of their hunt.

"You know, if they'd built **proper** residential towers instead of expanding Sana Dome, this wouldn't be as hard," Barricade growled. His finger jabbed at the screen of his pad. "Slagging fleshies get anything they want, just for asking."

Bluestreak shook his helm and sent a shot of disappointment over the bond. "Cade..."

"I know, I know. That's rude." The contrition Barricade sent back to Bluestreak was immediate and almost automatic. "It's true, though, about their dome expansion," he muttered.

Bluestreak gave Barricade another disapproving nudge over the bond, but said nothing. Some arguments were just not worth having.

"Hang on," Barricade said suddenly, his sourness evaporating into a spray of excitement. He tapped his pad a few times, and Bluestreak felt his anticipation rise. "That new building over by the Citron Expressway – you know, the new one with the high park and the balconies - is having an open house tomorrow! They're getting ready to take applications!" He looked at Bluestreak with wide optics. "But I have to work! And so do you, and it's during the day, and Prowl's on afternoons so he won't be able to go, and if we're not there we won't get on the list and-"

"Don't worry." Bluestreak held up his hand. "I'll go," he said. "I'll just let Urzul know that I'll be late coming in. I'm owned a little lieu time for the work I've been putting in on the Praxus office project." He leaned over and looked over Barricade's shoulder. "Is it in our price range? I thought new buildings would be totally out of the question."

"I don't know," Barricade said. His sensor wings quivered with eagerness. "But – oh, slag, Blue, if it looks **anything** like what we need and the price is even close to being right, just put our names in. We can always back out later if we decide it's not right."

But it **was** right. In fact, it was almost as perfect as they were going to get in Iacon. The new building was further from Bluestreak's and Barricade's workplaces than their current flat, but not so far away that they'd be spending all their free time sitting in traffic to commute to and from work. It was expensive for a three bedroom flat, what with all of its amenities, but it was just within in the budget all three of them had agreed on.

Within two months, they got the passcode to the flat and had all moved into the new place together.

Bluestreak loved their new flat. While he enjoyed recharging next to Barricade, he also liked getting a full night's recharge even when Barricade came home from work in the middle of the night. Having a bedroom of his own meant that when their schedules didn't align perfectly, Bluestreak wasn't disturbed halfway through his recharge cycle by someone clumsily falling into the berth.

Bluestreak loved that they each had their own space. It had been fine sharing space with Barricade; for most items, the line had long since blurred between things that were **mine** and things that were **ours**. But they each had a small number of things that were special, personal keepsakes, and it was nice having their own space to show them off. Bluestreak had a few trophies he'd won for sharpshooting before starting university, and he decorated the walls of his room with photos of Praxus. Barricade showed off his own trophies he'd received for racing, and the tiny toy tankformer Bluestreak had bought for him in university was proudly displayed on the shelf over Barricade's berth. Meanwhile, Prowl enjoyed growing tiny crystals, and the shelves in his room were covered in beautiful miniature gardens. Bluestreak loved each of their rooms as a visual display of their personalities.

Bluestreak loved the way the sunrise came through the balcony windows in the morning, illuminating the living area with a rich red glow. He loved the balcony, too. While he was initially afraid to go close to the edge, before too long he started spending his mornings leaning on the balcony railing as he drank his fuel, watching the air traffic of the city around him.

Bluestreak loved the highpark, a public area on the roof of the building that was open for anyone to use. When one of his lovers was home at the same time as him, he liked going up there with them for a walk. Somehow, even though the air traffic was almost as thick as the ground traffic, it seemed quieter above the expressways and thoroughfares.

Bluestreak loved the washrack. It was the latest and greatest, with space for a mech in root or vehicle mode. It had a cascade showerhead and jet massager, an undercarriage sprayer, and could be easily reconfigured into a soak station. The solvent could be made hot enough to strip all but the base colour from plating, and the drying station could remove drips in just a few seconds. Barricade joked that Bluestreak wanted to bond with the showerhead instead of any mech. Bluestreak replied that if it was an option, he'd think about it.

But most of all, Bluestreak loved having Prowl living there alongside them. He and Barricade had settled into comfortable routine that – admittedly – had grown a bit stale in the decades they'd been together. Prowl livened up their lives, simply by being a new force within it.

Prowl was great at strategy games, and Bluestreak soon started looking forward to the next time he and Prowl could play Primes and Drones together. Prowl introduced Barricade to a few new fuel additives, and before long the two of them were spending hours in the fuel prep area concocting new mixtures. And Prowl gave the most luxurious wing massages that either Bluestreak or Barricade had ever had.

Having Prowl live with them was fantastic. But one of the best things, as far as Bluestreak was concerned, was the fact that – unless both Prowl and Barricade were working nights – Bluestreak rarely spent a night alone in his berth.

He had always loved when Barricade was pliant beneath him, begging for his spike or riding it with abandon. Bluestreak loved doting on Barricade, making sure that his bond mate was fully satisfied before they both fell into recharge. And now that Prowl was available on a regular basis, Bluestreak had time to appreciate Prowl's contradictory nature. Sometimes the Enforcer was an aggressive presence, one that left Bluestreak feeling splayed and spent after being lovingly used. At other times, Prowl was submissive and needy in a way that made Bluestreak feel protective and desired. And when all three of them were able to spend the night together, Bluestreak knew he would likely be sore but very satisfied in the morning.

But even when nights together didn't lead to interfacing, Bluestreak also just liked always having a warm frame to curl up into when falling into recharge. It grounded him, soothed him, and made him feel safe and wanted.

Prowl quickly became a fixture in his and Barricade's lives, until neither of them could imagine a life without him again. Privately, Bluestreak and Barricade wondered whether they should propose to Prowl, but Bluestreak wanted it to be done traditionally... Or as traditionally as it could be, since he and Barricade were already bonded. For a traditional trining, it was usually just one mech proposing to the other two, asking them to form a trine with them. But Bluestreak still wanted their proposal to be done as close as possible to how he'd always imagined a trining proposal should go: on their knees, presenting Prowl with one of three platinum bonding rings, and reciting the formal request for him to join their trine.

However, platinum bonding rings were expensive, and until they could save up the shanix to buy a set of three, the gift would have to wait. Barricade had suggested going a cheaper route: silver, perhaps, or even chromium. But Bluestreak insisted they do this right.

Barricade had said he didn't want to do anything to mess this up. Bluestreak didn't want to mess it up, either.

It was about a year and a half after they had moved into the new flat, on one of the rare evenings that all three of them were off work together, that Prowl was giving Bluestreak one of those incredible wing massages. Prowl sat on the couch with Bluestreak on the floor, who leaned back against Prowl's knees. Barricade lay on the floor beside Bluestreak, his helm in Bluestreak's lap, finishing up the reading for his latest intelligence course. From Barricade, Bluestreak felt only a quiet contentment. For himself, Bluestreak felt relaxed and happy. Bluestreak's helm lolled forward lazily as Prowl found a particularly tense cable and slowly worked the tension out of it, and Bluestreak's hand rested lightly on Barricade's chest, caressing it gently.

Maybe it was the full tank of fuel he had, flavoured with an interesting mix of copper and cobalt that Barricade had mixed up. Maybe it was the warmth of Barricade's helm in his lap and the quiet joy he felt from him. Maybe (quite possibly) it was the cable-loosening pressure and kneading that Prowl was applying to the cables in his sensor wings.

Whatever it was, Bluestreak heard himself sigh happily, and say, "I love you, Prowl. This is just perfect." He smiled to himself, his optics still closed. "I wish I could have this always and forever."

It was a moment before Bluestreak realized that Prowl's hands had stopped moving. Bluestreak wiggled his sensor wings, trying to encourage Prowl's hands to move again, but they remained still on his shoulders. Before Bluestreak could ask why he had stopped, Prowl said, "You could, you know."

"I could what?" Bluestreak asked, his optics still closed.

Prowl's voice was quiet. "You could have this always and forever." A pause. "I think I'd like that."

Bluestreak opened his optics and saw Barricade staring up at him, and a questioning sort of hope shone over the bond.

_Oh. Oh, slag._

With a lurch, Bluestreak shoved Barricade off of his lap, and Barricade sat up. Both mechs spun around on their knees to face Prowl. The third Praxian sat on the couch, his sensor wings held behind him at a very neutral angle. His face was an emotionless mask, betraying no hint of how he was feeling.

...Except his optics were brighter than they ever were before.

Bluestreak grabbed Prowl's hand. "Prowl, we... I mean, I meant that... I mean, we were thinking before that, well, everything has been so good and you know that we were looking for a third and maybe we should have said something sooner but we wanted it to be right, and if this isn't exactly what you wanted I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to just come out like that. I haven't talked to Barricade about doing this – I mean, we talked about it earlier but we didn't talk about doing it **now** \- and we don't have a ring for you. We've looked but we didn't get a set yet because... Well, you know how much those things go for, and I wanted everything to be perfect and now I've gone and messed it up and-"

Barricade placed a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder and sent him a reassuring nudge over the bond. Bluestreak's mouth snapped shut as he realized he'd started blabbering like he always did when he was emotional about something, and he looked at Barricade. The dark mech smiled at him, then looked at Prowl and took his hand.

"What Blue's trying to say, Prowl, is that we've been thinking about proposing to you for a while. Blue wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to arrange to go someplace romantic, and present you with a ring, and we could formally ask you to join us to complete our trine, but..." Barricade grinned at Bluestreak, and the amused joy that swirled through the bond made Bluestreak's ventilations stutter. "I guess that, deep down, Blue just couldn't wait to ask you." He looked up at Prowl, and lowered his sensor wings in a respectful motion. "Prowl of Praxus, please make our lives, our sparks, and our trine whole." Barricade looked at Bluestreak expectantly.

Bluestreak's optics widened. They were doing this. They were actually **doing** this. He looked up at Prowl quickly. Prowl's expression had not changed, but his optics were focused on Bluestreak.

And then Prowl's sensor wings gave the smallest, slightest flutter.

Bluestreak gripped Prowl's hand tightly in his. "Prowl of Praxus, please bond with us," Bluestreak said to complete the formal request. Then he waved his sensor wings uncertainly. "Like Cade said, we don't have a ring for you, but we're on our knees, and I guess our flat is as romantic as we can afford right now, and-"

"Blue."

At Prowl's voice, Bluestreak's mouth snapped shut again. He didn't even dare pull a ventilation. Beside him, he felt Barricade's spark quiver again in anticipation.

Solemnly, Prowl looked at him, then at Barricade. "I will bond with you, to make my own life and my own spark whole. I will bond with you in trine."

And then a broad smile broke across Prowl's face, followed by a peal of laughter as he was suddenly pounced on by two happy Praxians.


	13. A Proper Trine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade are bonded to Prowl, forming their trine.

They never did bother getting the rings.

Their courtship may not have been traditional, and the proposal wasn't either. And when he was young, Bluestreak had never considered that he might pair before finding a third to complete the trine that he'd always wanted.

But the second time Bluestreak was bonded, it was as traditional a ceremony and celebration as they could manage. They were bonded in the Iacon Temple, and spoke their vows before a Priest of Primus. Their bonding was witnessed by a large group of their families and friends, most of them coming in from Praxus for the occasion. Bluestreak's mentors were there, with Cygnus openly tearful at seeing their mentee finally being trined. Barricade's mentors came as well, leaning on each other with broad smiles. And Prowl's mentors, who Bluestreak and Barricade had only spoken to by holovid, stood at their mentee's side, wings held high as they proudly witnessed his trining.

When Bluestreak slotted his data cable into Barricade's medical port, his systems recognized the other as a bond mate, and offered to refresh the synch between their sparks. Neither of them had undergone any injuries that would necessitate refreshing, repairing or recreating their bond, so the action wasn't necessary. Bluestreak briefly hoped that it would never be necessary. But then Prowl offered one of his cables to Bluestreak, and the other to Barricade, and all thoughts of possible future problems evaporated from Bluestreak's processor. In moments they knelt together in a triangle, cables crossed and hands held.

At the priest's direction, all three of them initiated the bonding sequence.

One moment Bluestreak was aware of one other presence in his spark, the now-familiar mischievous and fiery manifestation of Barricade. The next moment, a third presence had joined them. This one was loyal and focused, steadfast but flexible. From it, Bluestreak felt a cautious examination of himself and Barricade before it flared out in surprise.

Prowl's sensor wings shot upwards, mirroring his spark's reaction, and his optics went wide. He looked and Barricade, then at Bluestreak. "You're..."

"We're here," Barricade said, and sent Prowl a deliberate wave of affection and understanding.

"We'll always be here, now," Bluestreak added, and sent Prowl his own feelings of joy and completion.

Yes. That was what Bluestreak had felt as soon as Prowl's essence had appeared in his spark: a sense of completion. Before, he and Barricade had felt well-matched. Nothing seemed missing to either one of them. But sometimes you aren't even aware of what you were missing, until you aren't missing it any more.

Prowl was what they had been missing.

Prowl's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before a smile broke across his face, its radiance making his clear blue optics glow even brighter.

And with a sudden surge of understanding, all three of them realized that this was the most **right** the universe had ever been to all of them. Just as Bluestreak and Barricade had fit together like they had been made for one another, Prowl filled in the tiny gaps between them and made them whole and complete.

Unlike the commissioner at the Citizen Services office, the priest did not rush them to disconnect their data cables. He gave them time to revel in the closeness of the newly created bonds as he finished solemnizing their trine for their friends and families. Bluestreak couldn't concentrate on what the priest was saying, and only roused out of his giddy state when he heard his name. "Barricade, Bluestreak, and Prowl. May these designations be spoken together for always, for they are now of the same spark."

And all around them, the witnesses repeated their names. "Barricade, Bluestreak, and Prowl."

Also unlike the civil bonding at the Decagon, where traditions took a back seat to expediency, the ceremony was not over as soon as the bonding was completed. The families of the new Praxian bond mates were in charge of painting the bonding stripes on their sensor wings. After they had disconnected their cables and were gently encouraged to step away from one another, Bluestreak was seated on a stool. Caelum and Lightbraid carefully started applying the traditional stripes of white and gold on the lower edge of his right sensor wing while Cygnus knelt in front of him and held his hands.

"I am so proud of you," Cygnus said, smiling up at his mentee. "You've found two remarkable mechs for your bond mates. I'm sure your bond will be strong."

"I know it will be, Cator," Bluestreak said. He suppressed a shudder in his wings as he felt echoes of sensation from Barricade and Prowl. The need to jump up from the stool and pounce on his partners was almost overwhelming. "Cade and I have a strong bond, and – aah – I can feel everything that they're doing to Prowl."

"Give us just a few minutes more and you can waggle your wings all you want," Lightbraid said from behind him. Bluestreak noticed that she had a firm grip on the upper edge of his wing to keep it from moving. "But try to keep your protocols in check, at least until the reception's over, all right?"

"Yes, Ora," Bluestreak said obediently. Bluestreak looked across the room at Barricade, who had his helm thrown back and his optics closed as if he was in pain. But Bluestreak knew that Barricade was being assaulted by the same sensations as he was: ghostly touches on his wings, which were translating directly into charge in his circuits.

And Prowl seemed even worse off. This was his first experience with bonding, so his circuits were aflame with charge. He sat stiffly in his seat, and his optics were overly bright. Bluestreak could feel the intense concentration from him as he struggled not to move in reaction to the things he was feeling.

Bluestreak touched the bond with Prowl gently, not wanting to startle him, and sent him a quiet caress of understanding and reassurance. Prowl's optics widened, and immediately swept the room to find Bluestreak. When Bluestreak smiled at him, Prowl seemed to relax slightly, and sent him back a pulse of thanks.

...followed by a torrent of arousal.

It was only Lightbraid's strong grip on Bluestreak's wing that kept him from flicking it upwards in surprise. "Keep it together, Bluestreak," she said. "We're almost done."

"Sorry," Bluestreak said, and looked at Prowl again. The Enforcer looked and felt repentant, so much so that Bluestreak laughed. He sent him another brush of understanding, and laughed again when Prowl's engine revved.

Tradition was strict, but also understanding. The three new bond mates were seated at separate tables for the feast, but arranged so that they could all see one another. And the reception was mercifully brief, at least for the new trine. They ate the treats that their families had bought, and formally thanked the guests for witnessing their union.

Then, after everyone had been greeted and thanked, the three of them were escorted to the hotel across the street from the temple. "We'll see you tomorrow," Caelum told Bluestreak as each of their mentors wished them a good night. "We have some sightseeing planned for the morning, but we'll be back in the afternoon."

"And if you still need more time for the bond to settle, just let us know," Cygnus said, pulling Bluestreak in for a hug. "We'll wait. We remember how it was for us." He gave his bond mates a glance and a slight waggle of his sensor wings, and Caelum flushed.

Lightbraid stepped forward, her face drawn into a soft smile that Bluestreak could not remember ever seeing on her. "We love you, Blue. You've done good."

"Thank you, Ora. I love you all, too," Bluestreak said. He looked at his family once more before feeling the draw of his new trine. Turning, Bluestreak saw Barricade and Prowl standing near the elevator, their arms wrapped around each other's waists.

Bluestreak didn't need any more of an invitation than that.

Interfacing with Barricade had always been amazing, especially after they had bonded. Charge from one would spill over the bond to the other, letting them ride each other's arousal until they both were overcome by the charge.

Interfacing with Prowl had always been fantastic, especially when Barricade was in the berth as well. Prowl was subtle with his approach, where Barricade was not. Prowl found ways to draw Bluestreak's charge upwards so slowly and so carefully that Bluestreak barely even noticed, until he was a gibbering, pleading mess. And when Barricade was there, the two of them could reduce Prowl to incoherence within minutes... Or drag it out for hours upon delightful hours.

Interfacing with both of them, with all of them bonded, was a processor-blowing experience.

Literally.

While Bluestreak and Barricade were now experienced enough with each other that they could usually mute or amplify arousal from the other, Prowl did not have such filters in place yet. Within minutes of them staggering into their hotel room, Prowl was shouting through his first overload of the evening and was quickly ramping up into his second, just from the touches his new bond mates were giving him.

Prowl seemed incapable of speech, but his part of the bond was drenched in desire, love, and wonder. Bluestreak and Barricade eased Prowl down onto the berth, with hands on wings and fingers in transformation seams and lips everywhere. Bluestreak was pressed against Prowl's back, and Barricade to his front. Between them, Prowl shuddered as Bluestreak took his soaking valve and Barricade his rigid spike. Between them, Prowl gasped and overloaded again, dragging Bluestreak and Barricade with him.

They discovered that Prowl's sensors were more sensitive than either of theirs. They found that he loved having his hips pulled flush with his lover's, grinding them as close as possible. They realized that as he touched them, and the sensation rocketed back to them, they could develop spiraling cascades through the bond that were self-sustaining, until simply a touch to Prowl's wing or headlights or thigh would create a feedback loop that could drag all three of them into shared ecstasy.

They learned that the gesture that meant the most to all of them was lying together with their fingers and legs all entwined with one another's, until none of them were certain which parts belonged to them, and which belonged to their mates.

When their senses returned somewhat, Bluestreak became aware that Prowl was still caught between him and Barricade, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room. Bluestreak could feel Prowl thinking, in a way that he never could with Barricade. "How are you doing?" Bluestreak murmured to Prowl, aware that Barricade was still in a semi-online state on the other side of Prowl.

"Primus," Prowl breathed, his optics still fixed on the ceiling. "How do you manage this? Feeling this, all the time?" He finally tipped his helm to the side, and his clear blue optics met Bluestreak's. "How do you even function?"

Bluestreak laughed quietly. "It'll settle in a little while," he said. "Things won't be as sharp or intense." He nuzzled the side of Prowl's helm. "Once it settles, you'll learn how to block things. And even then, most sensations will be muted unless we're very close."

"Or unless we send you something specific," Barricade muttered, apparently coming back online enough to catch up on the conversation. "Or the emotion is really strong."

"I know how it works," Prowl said, but there was no heat behind his words. If anything, his voice sounded soft and understanding. "It's just that, right now, I don't think I can even remember **not** feeling like all of my sensors are triple sensitive." Then a shiver ran through his frame and he whined quietly. Prowl squeezed Bluestreak's hand, which was still wrapped around his, and his cooling fans kicked on again. "Slag," Prowl moaned. "Even the feel of the berth under me... I can feel every atom in it, and they're all charged, and..."

Bluestreak propped his helm up on a hand and looked down at Prowl. Prowl's lips were parted slightly, and his glossa skated out to lick his lower lip. _Slag, he is so gorgeous._ Prowl's brilliant blue optics were even brighter than normal, and Bluestreak waited until they focused on his face. "I can feel all of that, too, you know. Through you," Bluestreak whispered, his own frame shivering in response to what he was receiving from Prowl. It felt so good, and he could feel his own charge starting to rise once more. He stroked a hand down Prowl's chest, pausing when the Enforcer's arched under his touch. "Again?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, **please** , yes," Prowl hissed. His hands pulled at Bluestreak, and he cried out in bliss as Bluestreak slipped between his thighs and plunged his spike into Prowl's valve.

Prowl wrapped his legs around Bluestreak's waist, encouraging him to move faster and harder, demanding more. Prowl's lips drifted over Bluestreak's chin and throat as he moved, giving him little bites, and his fingertips scratched at Bluestreak's plating.

"Faster, he wants it," Barricade murmured. He was alert again, his crimson optics greedily consuming the sight in the berth beside him. He was on his side, his hips pressed against Prowl's leg as he rutted against it. "I want to feel," he moaned quietly, and his hand snaked under Bluestreak's hips.

Bluestreak almost tipped over the edge right then. He felt Barricade's fingers encircle his spike where it entered Prowl's valve. "Frag, Cade," Bluestreak growled. He closed his optics and sunk into the bond.

Bluestreak felt Barricade's spike pressed against Prowl's leg and Prowl's valve filled with his spike and Barricade's fingers sliding along his spike and stroking against the lips of Prowl's valve and Prowl's sensors being overwhelmed by all of the extra input. All three of them felt the charge peak in the others and in themselves, and Bluestreak's spike was spilling its transfluid into Prowl's valve which convulsed down on his spike, and Prowl's hands gripped his hips and pulled them tight against him, and Prowl's leg went slick with the fluid from Barricade as he overloaded at the same time and none of them knew who was who and everything was perfect between them.

When he regained his senses a few minutes later and somehow found himself pressed between Barricade and Prowl this time, Bluestreak let himself fall into the comforting embrace of his trine.

* * *

When Bluestreak told Urzul that he would be bonding again to join a proper trine, she had insisted on giving him a gift. "Dorgu explained. Cybertronians do not travel after mating. You do not allow time for reflection. No time for new experiences." She pointed at the envelope she gave him. "This, to be used for travel. Mithril Sea is beautiful. You have never been?" When Bluestreak shook his helm, Urzul stroked her long fingers down his arm. "You will go. You and your mates."

Inside the envelope was a voucher for an all-expense paid trip to a resort on the Mithril Sea. Bluestreak gawked at it for a minute before looking down at Urzul. "I can't accept this!" he exclaimed. "This is a small fortune. I mean, the travel costs alone are-"

"Is gift. Is mine to give." She wiggled her fingers and tittered, a sound like falling glass. "Is wish for happiness for your mates. _Trine_." The Cybertronian word came out of her translator sounding stilted, but her large eyes looked almost gleeful. "You bond. Complete your stable. Then, you travel with your mates. Like A'ovan. Time away, time for reflection. Time for growing close. You return, a strong stable. This is my wish."

Barricade had quite different ideas for the voucher. "We could sell that," he said, after getting over the shock of seeing exactly how much it was worth. "We could sell that and be really close to having enough savings to meet the minimum support requirements." He waved the voucher at Bluestreak. "We could have a mentee in a year or so!"

But Prowl agreed with Bluestreak. "That was given to Bluestreak for a specific purpose," Prowl said. "I know that for A'ovans, travel is a very important aspect of their mating ritual. I don't think it would be a good idea to antagonize Bluestreak's employer by selling the voucher instead of using it. She wants him to take this trip with us." Prowl smiled. "Besides, I've always wanted to see the Mithril Sea."

Even though Barricade grumbled some more, and made disgruntled noises about some organics having too much shanix to throw around frivolously, they made arrangements to take the trip after their bonding ceremony. They all got time off from work, booked their travel, and a few weeks after their bonding they found themselves on a shuttle to the Mithril Sea.

It was stunning.

Bluestreak had seen pictures of the Mithril Sea, of course, but pictures alone couldn't have prepared him for the rich smell, or how big it actually was, or the feel of the heavy liquid rolling into the cliffs below the resort. Video didn't convey how utterly peaceful it was for the three of them to drive slowly down the switchback trails to the shore. Articles and stories about the location didn't prepare the trine for the feeling of being able to just sit and do nothing for hours at a time, soaking in each other's closeness, without having somewhere to be or something they needed to do.

Maybe the A'ovans were onto something with this 'travel together after mating' thing, after all.

"I think I could get used to this," Bluestreak said on their third day at the resort. They were all parked at a pull off that had become their favourite, overlooking a secluded cove. Bluestreak settled on his tires and made a contented noise. "I'm going to have to find some way to thanks Urzul. Maybe I can buy a souvenir for her that she'd like."

Beside him, Barricade made a low sound, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. On Barricade's other side, Prowl said, "I know you wanted to sell the voucher, Barricade. But I can also feel how much you're enjoying this."

Barricade's tires twisted slightly in the dust on the overlook. "Yeah, I know," Barricade said. "I'm just feeling a little..." He paused.

Bluestreak could sense what Barricade was feeling, even though the dark mech was trying to suppress what he was sending over the bond. If Bluestreak had to put a name to the emotions he was getting from Barricade, it would be resentment, or frustration, or dissatisfaction. Bluestreak rose on his wheels slightly. "Cade, promise me something. Someday, when we've really got our wheels under us and we're in a good position, and we've got a mentee, let's start that business we've talked about."

"Are you talking about that idea about starting a private security firm?" Prowl asked. When Bluestreak beeped an affirmative, Prowl rolled back on his own wheels slightly. "I admit that I do like that idea. Between the three of us, we've got most of the expertise required."

Bluestreak expected to feel the familiar flare of excitement from Barricade that he usually did when they talked about starting their own business. But now, the resentment that Barricade had been feeling faded, and was replaced by optimism threaded together with hope. "We do," Barricade said quietly. "But I think we should focus on one thing at a time. And right now, I think we should work as hard as we can to prepare for an application to Vector Sigma." Barricade sent each of his bondmates a little surge of determination. "Now that we have a trine, I want to focus on getting a mentee."

"That sounds sensible," Prowl said.

Bluestreak let himself relax slightly, happy that they'd fended off another rant from Barricade about how organics were being given unfair advantages by the Senate. Bluestreak always tried to gently dissuade Barricade from those tirades with facts and figures (that he knew intimately, since he worked with them every day) but every time he thought he'd shifted Barricade's thinking, some new conspiracy theory cropped up.

It was so tiring.

At least Barricade had something to look forward to now, something tangible that took his processor off the imagined slights and insults at the hands of organics. Bluestreak hoped that with Prowl alongside them, and the promise of a new build in their future, Barricade could move on from his fringe theories and focus on what was real.

The sun was setting behind them, and over the thick liquid of the Mithril Sea, Luna Two began to rise. Rolling back slightly, Barricade transformed and stretched. "How about a song?" he said, kneeling between his two trinemates and resting his hands on their roofs.

Bluestreak let his joy and delight flood the bond as Barricade opened his mouth and began to sing, his deep voice echoing off of the cliff walls around them. Prowl's reaction was more subtle, but he was just as enchanted as the first time he'd heard Barricade sing for them, not long before they'd asked Prowl to move in.

_In the rays of the moon and the light of the night,  
When my tires are hot and my lights are bright,  
If there's one thing I need to feel truly free,  
There's nothing I want more than to have you beside me._

_In the works of your frame and the song in your code,  
When I hear your engine coming up the road,  
I'm asking you, begging you, to hear my plea,  
All I want in this world is to have you beside me._


	14. Trined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new trine settle into their lives together, and plan for the future.

The three of them quickly settled into their new lives together. For some reason, fitting Prowl into their bond went smoother than when Bluestreak and Barricade had first bonded. Prowl turned out to be more particular about certain things than they had picked up on when they had simply been living together. For example, Prowl preferred that all of the data pads anyone had been using were put away at the end of the night. That made sense; it kept the living area clear, and nothing got broken by leaving it someplace where it might be accidentally damaged. But he learned things about them in turn, and before too long they settled into routines that suited everyone.

When Prowl was first home after work or first online in the morning, he always prepared fuel for the bond mates who would be joining him. He seemed to like puttering around in the kitchen, and setting things straight in the living area.

In the evening, Bluestreak would take whichever of his bond mates was home up to the highpark on their building. It got them out of the flat (when they normally would have just sat and watched some show on the entertainment unit) and gave them a chance to catch up on their days. Prowl would walk at Bluestreak's side, their sensor wings barely touching, while Barricade would wrap his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders or waist.

And Barricade would almost always be found simply by following your audials. He sang in the wash rack, when preparing fuel, or when cleaning. Even when he was studying, he would hum quietly.

The rhythms of their days and nights, even with their varying schedules, was a source of comfort and closeness.

Now that they were all bonded, it was simple to keep tabs on their mates during the course of their day. It was easy to tell who was recharging, who was excited about something, and who might be in a bad mood when they got home. They also all got in the habit of throwing a complete or partial block on the bond while they were at work. Prowl insisted on that because of the nature of some of his duties, and before long all three of them were doing it just as a matter of course. After all, if someone was trying to recharge, it wouldn't do to let your frustrations over a task at work keep them awake. And if two mates were in the process of blowing each other's breakers, the block kept the poor mech at work from being affected by the feelings of arousal from his mates. But they always made it up to that mech once he made his way home.

One day, about a year after their bonding, Bluestreak was on his way home from work. It had been a rough day: fuel costs had risen yet again. Every increase in fuel costs severely affected the company's bottom line. Bluestreak and the other lead managers had been in budget consultations all day, trying to find places where they could make cuts without sacrificing service, salaries, or employees.

The meetings had not gone well, and Bluestreak was in a bad mood.

He knew that Barricade and Prowl were both at home, since they were both on their swing weeks. That meant they could fuel together tonight, and Bluestreak was looking forward to watching some mindless show to take his mind off of the day he'd had.

As he got closer and closer to home, he felt a sensation like lightning playing against the block he'd had up on the bond all day. He let the block thin slightly. The sweet taste of lust he felt wafting through the bond was enough to make him wiggle happily on his tires as he drove.

The show could wait. Bluestreak knew that something a lot more interesting was waiting for him.

By the time he got to their building and rode the lift up to their floor, Bluestreak had almost completely forgotten about the arguments he'd had to listen to and hard decisions he'd had to make that day. When he keyed open the door to their flat, he paused just inside and listened.

The washrack was running. And the erotic itch he'd been feeling the whole drive home was nearly driving him mad. Thank Primus he'd left the block mostly up, or he might not have made it home safely.

The door to the washrack was partially open, an invitation if he'd ever seen one. But the amount of steam billowing out of the rack made him surprised that the humidity detector in the hallway hadn't gone off. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, then looked into the wet area of the rack.

Barricade and Prowl were both standing under the cascade showerhead, hot solvent running down over both of their frames. Or rather, Prowl was standing, while Barricade was pressed into the wall under the showerhead. His legs were wrapped around Prowl's hips, and the wheels in his pedes spun with every thrust of Prowl's hips.

Barricade's helm rocked back into the wall, and his arms clutched at Prowl's shoulders. Bluestreak could see Barricade's lips moving – probably muttering something obscene, knowing him – as Prowl's face was buried in his neck, but he couldn't hear what he was saying over the sound of the shower and the rumble of their engines.

It was an image that Bluestreak thought he could look at all day... Except that he also wanted to touch. And to feel.

With a smile, Bluestreak leaned against the wall just outside the wet area of the rack and crossed his arms under his bumper. "What, you couldn't even wait for me?" he asked, and sent a flicker of amusement and love over the bond before snapping the block back into place.

Barricade's optics slitted open as he turned his helm to look at Bluestreak hazily. "We are waiting, aren't we Prowl?" Barricade said, his voice sounding strained. His engine whined as Prowl paused to adjust his grip on his hips. "This is just a bit of foreplay."

"Really? Foreplay?" Prowl leaned back to give Barricade a look, and his sensor wings twitched, sending droplets of solvent flying. "I've got my spike root deep into this sloppy valve of yours, and you call this **foreplay**?"

"Oh, is that where your spike is? I wasn't sure." Barricade grinned, flashing his dentae at Prowl. "Maybe you should frag me harder so I can feel it." Then he laughed, his voice breaking up with static, as Prowl's engine revved and the Enforcer started pounding into him with long, firm strokes. "Blue, get – **ah!** – get over here, unless you want to just watch all night."

Bluestreak didn't need any more encouragement than that. He stepped behind Prowl and wrapped his arms around the Enforcer, taking a moment to savour the sensation of the hot solvent pouring over them both and the vibrations from Prowl's engine. Then he planted a kiss on the back of Prowl's neck. "I'll watch this time," Bluestreak purred into Prowl's audial, and lightly rubbed his fingers around the edges of Prowl's headlights. "But I intend on taking my turn next."

Prowl's engine coughed at Bluestreak's touch to his headlights, and his rhythm faltered as he continued to thrust into Barricade. "Careful, Blue," Prowl said, adjusting his grip on Barricade's hips again, hiking him higher against the wall. A moan escaped Prowl's vocalizer as Bluestreak's fingers dug into the edges of his headlights and then drifted down to his bumper. His voice shook slightly. "Careful. I don't want to drop him."

Bluestreak pressed against Prowl harder, his own front bumper scraping against Prowl's roof. "You won't drop him," Bluestreak said, keeping his voice low and rich. He nuzzled the back of Prowl's helm. "You'd never let anything happen to him. Neither of us would." Bluestreak smiled against the back of Prowl's neck when he heard Barricade groan softly. "Take him as hard as you want. Use him. You know that's what he wants." Barricade's groan deepened, and Bluestreak saw the dark mech's fingers tighten on Prowl's shoulders. "And then, Prowl, my light, it's **my** turn to have **you**."

Even with the block up, Bluestreak could feel that was the moment Prowl overloaded, his strokes becoming erratic and his engine roaring. Pressed against the wall, Barricade tipped over with Prowl. Barricade's helm slammed back against the tile as he opened his mouth wide, soundless in his ecstasy.

As his shudders eased, Prowl slowly lifted his helm from Barricade's chest and kissed him, only letting up when Barricade made a small sound of contentment. "Did that take the edge off for you?" Prowl asked.

"Yeah. Just enough, Prowl," Barricade said, linking his hands around Prowl's neck. Then he tipped his helm to the side, his crimson optics catching Bluestreak's, and he grinned again. "But I think Blue wants his turn. You can put me down, I'm good."

Prowl let go of Barricade's legs one at a time, letting him find his balance on the wet floor, before turning his helm slightly. He looked at Bluestreak out of the corner of his optic. "How did you want me?" Prowl asked.

Still pressed against Prowl's back, Bluestreak caught a waft of need over the bond. "I think I want you the same way you had Cade," Bluestreak said. "After a fashion, anyway." He flashed a smile at Barricade. "What do you think, Cade?"

Barricade laughed, and slid over slightly. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea. And I want to watch."

As soon as Barricade was clear, Bluestreak shoved Prowl chest-first into the wall. "How does this look?" Bluestreak asked.

Barricade turned and leaned a shoulder against the wall of the washrack. "Like you're getting ready to search him," Barricade said, and his grin widened when Prowl's engine revved.

"Hmm." Bluestreak grabbed one of Prowl's hands and held it behind his back. "When was the last time you arrested someone, Prowl?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yesterday." Prowl's voice was clipped, a sign that he was straining to keep his vocalizer free of static and feedback. He gasped quietly as Bluestreak's other hand grazed his spike housing, where his spike had retracted after slipping free of Barricade's valve. "But you're using terrible form for restraining someone."

"He's right," Barricade said. One of his hands was wrapped around his partially-pressurized spike, gently rubbing along its length as he watched his bond mates. "If you're not careful he could turn the tables on you really quick."

"Tell me how I should hold you, then," Bluestreak said into Prowl's audial. He slid his free hand lower, sliding his fingers through the outer folds of Prowl's valve. "Tell me exactly what to do, Officer."

Prowl canted his hips forward as if trying to get Bluestreak's fingers to slide into his valve. "For starters, you left my pedes too close together," he said. "If you push them farther apart, you'll destabilize my stance."

"Like this?" Bluestreak nudged his knee between Prowl's legs, then swept to the side. Prowl made a small noise as his pede skidded sideways on the wet tile. When Bluestreak repeated the movement with Prowl's other leg, Prowl grabbed at the wall with his free hand. "Don't worry, light," Bluestreak said, releasing a bit of his hold on the bond to send a brush of reassurance through. "I won't let you fall."

"I know you won't," Prowl said, but Bluestreak could feel Prowl's legs trembling slightly. Or maybe the trembling was just a product of the full-body shiver than ran through Prowl. "The other thing is my hands," he said. "If you don't have cuffs, you should pull both of my hands behind my back."

"Hmm." Bluestreak lifted his free hand away from Prowl's valve (to a whine from Prowl) and ran his fingers up the length of Prowl's arm. "I know you're nervous with your pedes so far apart," Bluestreak murmured. He interlaced his fingers through Prowl's. "Having both hands behind your back might make you more nervous." He brushed his lips against the back of Prowl's neck. "I want to make you feel good, not nervous."

"I know you won't let me fall," Prowl repeated. "But... I would feel more secure without my hands behind my back."

"You could use a modified hold," Barricade said. His spike was fully pressurized now, and he lazily stroked it as he leaned against the wall. "Hold both of his hands against the wall on either side of his helm." Barricade licked his lips, catching a rivulet of solvent that had been running down his face. "Like you're waiting for backup."

"Are you my backup?" Bluestreak asked, dropping the block again to send Barricade a burst of amusement. His optics flashed down to Barricade's spike and he smiled. "I see you've already got your weapon out."

Barricade shoved his hips forward, waggling his spike at Bluestreak. "Just give me the say so and I'll take the safety off," he said with a laugh.

Bluestreak shook his helm. "You're ridiculous." Then he pulled Prowl's other hand up and pressed it to the wall on the other side of Prowl's helm. "But you do sometimes have some good ideas," he murmured. He let go of one of Prowl's hands and slipped his fingers between Prowl's legs, slipping them into Prowl's soaking folds. "Is this what you wanted?" Bluestreak said, his lips grazing Prowl's audial. He curled his fingers inside Prowl's valve, and felt the Enforcer's calipers twitch. "Do you like being spread out against a wall like this?" He dropped the block again, and hissed when he felt the rush of lust that swamped him. "Did you want me to take you just like this?"

Prowl made a tiny noise, barely audible over the sound of the solvent pouring over their plating, and jerked his helm up and down in a nod.

With a smile, Bluestreak pulled his fingers out of Prowl's valve. "Tip your hips back for me, light," he said. When Prowl arched his back slightly, Bluestreak guided his hardened spike into Prowl's opening.

The solvent was hot, but somehow Prowl's valve felt hotter. Wetter. Bluestreak moved his hand back up Prowl's arm and laced his fingers through Prowl's, pressing both of Prowl's hands flat against the tile. Bluestreak groaned softly as he sank fully into Prowl, finally sheathing himself fully. "How's this?" he said, his voice quavering.

Prowl did not answer, but nodded again and canted his hips back further. When Bluestreak withdrew and then pushed inside him once more, Prowl's fingers curled against the tile as a low groan escaped his vocalizer.

"This is so fragging hot," Barricade exclaimed. His optics swept over his bond mates as his fist worked at his spike. "Is that what you wanted, Prowl? Getting shoved against the wall like that?" When Prowl groaned again, Barricade tipped his helm so he could look at Prowl's face. "You wanted to get shoved against the wall and fragged, like some common criminal got the upper hand on you?"

Bluestreak had set a slow pace, sliding his spike in and out of Prowl's valve, slowly building up a delightful friction. With each thrust he forced Prowl's hips forward so that his spike housing scraped against the tiles. "The only thing criminal here is your mouth, Cade," Bluestreak said.

"Why don't you shut me up, then?" Barricade said, his optics flashing in a challenge.

With a lurch, Bluestreak thrust into Prowl and let go of one of his hands. He grabbed Barricade around the back of his helm and pulled him in for a kiss. Barricade accepted the kiss greedily, hungrily, letting Bluestreak's glossa slide into his mouth.

Bluestreak shivered in the onslaught of Barricade's need, pouring over the spark bond. And then he sensed an echo of it from Prowl, and heard a whimper from the Enforcer, and felt the clutch of Prowl's valve around his spike.

"Aww, he's jealous," Barricade said as his and Bluestreak's lips parted. He leaned, sliding a hand down towards Prowl's valve. "Don't worry, Prowl, we've got you." He mouthed at the side of Prowl's helm vent.

Bluestreak felt the moment Barricade's fingers made contact with Prowl's anterior node, as it set off a chain reaction in the three of them. As Bluestreak hilted himself again and Barricade gently stroked Prowl's prominent nub, Prowl tipped his helm back and shuddered. With a flash of light and charge, Prowl overloaded, pulling his bond mates over with him. Bluestreak's engine roared as his spike throbbed, spilling his transfluid into Prowl, just as Barricade's own spike released his load on Prowl's hip.

Somewhere in there, Bluestreak heard a quick whoop of a siren.

When Bluestreak managed to take stock of his situation again, he was seated on the floor of the washrack, his back against the wall. Prowl was curled up at his side, his helm pillowed in his lap, while Barricade leaned against Bluestreak's shoulder. A quiet buzz of pleasure and satisfaction ran through the bond, wrapping them all in an embrace of happiness.

The hot solvent continued to cascade down over them, rinsing away the evidence of how they'd spent the last few minutes.

Bluestreak stared up at the showerhead and smiled. "When we were looking for flats, I told you that a really nice washrack was a good idea," he said. He turned his helm, pressing his lips against the top of Barricade's helm, and gently caressed Prowl's helm in his lap. "And I really needed that after the day I had. Thank you, both of you."

"Any time, Blue," Barricade said fuzzily. "Really."

Prowl just made a soft sound of contentment.

* * *

Yes, domestic life together suited the new trine.

Bluestreak and Barricade encouraged Prowl to finally sign up for the tactical training he'd always wanted to pursue. Prowl turned out to be a natural at it, and his superiors quickly shunted him into the advanced courses. However, Prowl insisted that he not be taken out of the regular street duty rotation for the courses. "That wouldn't be fair to my fellow officers," he'd said when Barricade asked why Prowl hadn't asked for accommodation. "I'll get through all of the training soon enough. I'm not in any rush."

Barricade continued his training as well. He'd graduated to the advanced intelligence courses, and was continually keeping his optics open for opportunities in the Investigation and Intelligence Department. There wasn't much turnover there, but his supervisor encouraged him to continue with his training. Barricade especially liked the courses on interrogation. "It's like trying to solve a puzzle, but with words and emotions," Barricade told Bluestreak one night while they were out for their walk. "And the next level of courses will get me into hacking. I've been looking forward to those the most."

Bluestreak had simply smiled at the enthusiasm he felt over the bond.

In fact, the only thing that presented serious difficulty were their schedules, between work and training. Weeks and months would go by before they were all on the same schedule, and they became very jealous of those days. Social invitations would be rejected, chores would go mostly undone, and they simply spent all of their time together. Even just sitting in the same room, all quietly going about their studying or their own leisure activities, was fulfilling in a way that Bluestreak didn't think was possible.

Sometimes you just wanted to be close to the ones you loved.

It was on one of those evenings that Barricade suddenly looked up from his data pad and said, "What trine roles do you think each of us have?"

Barricade was sitting on the couch, sprawled across half of it as he read his book. Prowl was occupying the other half of the couch, and his legs were casually tangled together with Barricade's as Prowl studied for the upcoming exams in his tactical training. Bluestreak sat at the table, going over lists of figures and budgets.

A typical evening for when they were all home together, in other words.

Bluestreak glanced up, his processor still running calculations of the budget projections he was working on. "Trine roles?" he asked.

"You know, Blue. The traditional parts of a trine, like they talk about in folklore." Barricade ticked off the parts on his fingers. "One mech is the mind, another is the body, and the third is the soul."

Prowl shook his helm, but his optics stayed focused on his data pad. "That's an outdated superstition," he said. "It leaves out all sorts of non-traditional bonds, like pairs and quads."

"Quads?" Bluestreak said. He frowned. "I didn't think quads were actually a thing." Bluestreak thought for a moment. "I mean, there was a group of four mechs living together in our building when I was young, but I didn't think they were actually bonded. They acted bonded, but... I didn't think that it was possible to bond to more than two mechs at a time." He chewed on the tip of his stylus. "And even then, isn't that only for the frametypes who trine up? You know, Praxians, Urayans, and Vosians."

Prowl looked up from his reading at Bluestreak. Over the bond, Bluestreak could feel a vague bemusement from the white and black mech. "Everyone says we're wired to trine, but that's really more of a cultural artifact. There's no limit to the number of connections any spark can have, so long as they're true to one another," Prowl said. "But most mechs are content with just one or two other bond mates, so you don't hear of larger groups very often."

"You two are forgetting about my question," Barricade said, his impatience with the discussion cutting through the bond.

"What question was that?" Bluestreak asked, smiling at Prowl over Barricade's helm. Barricade often teased both of them, so it was a treat to tease him in return.

Barricade threw a rude gesture at Bluestreak, but grinned back. "Which of us is which part?" He looked at Prowl. "I'm pretty sure Prowl's the mind."

Bluestreak nodded as Prowl rolled his optics. "I'd agree with that," Bluestreak said. "And if we're just going by looks, I'd say you are the body." He let his gaze roam over Barricade's frame as the dark mech laughed. "Or Prowl. You both have fine bodies."

"But if Prowl is the body, then you must be the mind," Barricade said. He pointed at the data pad in front of Bluestreak. "You've been fiddling with those numbers all night."

"This whole discussion is ridiculous," Prowl said, looking at his data pad again. "Depending on a mech's mood, the time of day, or what personality traits you decide to highlight, you could make any argument for any one of us to be any of the parts." He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "It's all superstition and nonsense."

Bluestreak and Barricade's optics met, and with another burst of laughter their joint amusement flooded the bond. "Yeah, he's definitely the mind," Bluestreak said, and Barricade nodded.

Prowl sighed and put his reading down, but Bluestreak could feel the good-natured humour from him. "All right, fine," he said. "If you look at the classic definitions for the roles in the trine, the mind is the mech who plans, makes decisions, and solves problems." He looked at his bond mates. "You both do that just as often as I do, but if you think I do it to a greater degree, then we'll go with that."

"I think we've already established that," Bluestreak said, leaning his helm on his hand and smiling.

"The body is the mech who holds the trine together. They bridge the differences between the mind and the soul," Prowl continued. "And the soul is the passion in the trine. They are the goal-seekers, the one whose enthusiasm for life keep the engines running in the relationship."

Both Bluestreak and Prowl looked at Barricade.

"Me?" Barricade asked, putting a hand on his chest.

"You **are** the passionate one," Bluestreak said, still smiling. "And I don't just mean for 'facing. When you get your mind set on something, you don't stop until you've achieved it."

Barricade thought about that for a minute, then nodded. "I'll take that," he said. Then he pointed at Bluestreak. "Which makes you the body."

Bluestreak waggled his sensor wings. "So you're saying that you can't live without all of this?" he gestured down at his frame.

Prowl smiled softly. "A mech is nothing without a body to inhabit. Per the tradition, you are the one who keeps us together."

"So we've got the smarts," Barricade said, pointing at Prowl. "The sexy frame," indicating Bluestreak, "and the passion." He thumbed his own chest, and grinned. "I'll take it."

The calculations Bluestreak had been running in his processor finished, and he looked back down at his spreadsheet. When he entered the last number, his optics widened in surprise. "Speaking of passion," Bluestreak said, "I've got some good news for you."

"You've calculated exactly how hot I am?" Barricade asked, and laughed when Prowl gave him a soft kick with his pede.

"You know that's incalculable, Cade," Bluestreak said offhandedly, and reviewed his numbers again. Then he looked up at his bond mates. "Now, this is contingent upon inflation staying at current rates and our salaries staying steady. The last few years have been sort of unpredictable, with fuel costs rising faster than expected, but I think I extrapolated them as well as I could." He frowned. "I don't want to give anyone false hopes, so please remember that this is just a projection, but as the year goes on we should have a better idea of how close we're getting. There are some variations in the numbers I can run just in case, and–"

"Bluestreak." Prowl's voice was gentle but broke through Bluestreak's babbling. "How close we're getting to what?"

Bluestreak looked at his bond mates again, and he realized that they were sensing the excitement he was feeling in his spark. He smiled and fluttered his sensor wings. "If we can keep adding to our savings at our current rate, and keep our monthly expenses at their current levels relative to the rising cost of living, we'll meet the minimum support threshold for applying to Vector Sigma in one year."

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then, a burst of elation washed through the bond. "One year?" Barricade asked. His voice crackled with static. "One year? We can apply for a new build in one year?"

Bluestreak nodded, smiling as he felt Barricade's joy increase even more.

Barricade lept to his pedes. "A year! A year!" He spun around, grabbing Prowl by the shoulders. "Did you hear that?"

"I did!" Prowl laughed as Barricade first threw his arms around his shoulders, then bounded over to Bluestreak.

"One year!" Barricade yelled, hugging Bluestreak as well. "We're going to have a new build in one year!"

"I know," Bluestreak laughed, and threw an arm around Prowl, who had joined them at the table. "I know!"

Barricade's joy was contagious, but – to be honest – Bluestreak and Prowl were just as excited as Barricade was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you this offering of a longer chapter to tide you over for a little while. It might be a couple of weeks before the next one... Even though I've written up to Chapter 20, my anxiety is urging me to get more of a buffer written before posting anymore. So [ominous music] I'm leaving you on this upnote for now. :)


	15. Shutdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Global events throw a wrench into the trine's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I think I might be able to settle on a weekly schedule for now, so long as things don't get too crazy around here. :)

Ten months later, disaster struck.

It was early in the afternoon when Bluestreak felt the flare of anger and disbelief from Barricade, even through the block that Barricade often had up while he was working. Bluestreak leaned on Liat's desk where they had been going over some figures for the Praxus office, and pressed his hand to his chest. His spark throbbed in response to the grief it felt from his bond mate.

"Friend Bluestreak?" Liat's delicately long fingers stroked Bluestreak's arm repeatedly, as though he could stop whatever was happening to the Cybertronian. "Sick? Not well? In need of repair?"

Bluestreak shook his helm. "It's one of my trinemates," he said when he was sure he could speak without his voice being peppered with feedback. "Give me a minute?" When Liat nodded, Bluestreak opened a comm line to Barricade, but the dark mech's frequency was flagged as Do Not Disturb. That was standard for him while he was at work, so Bluestreak prodded at the bond instead.

He got no response.

Bluestreak felt along the bond to Prowl, and found that his other bond mate was in recharge. Barricade's outburst had not woken him. That was good: Prowl was back on nights, and needed his rest before his shift. So Bluestreak opened the comm to Barricade again and sent him a message: _Cade, what's wrong? When you get this, please give me a call._

"Is all well?" Liat asked, his fingers still patting and gliding over Bluestreak's plating. "Trouble with your stable?"

Bluestreak rubbed his chest again, seeking to soothe the ache. "I don't know. I'm waiting for a call back." He shook out his sensor wings, and pointed back at the reports. "Let's try to get through the rest of these, all right?"

They had only worked for another few minutes when Bluestreak staggered against the desk again. This time, the fury overwhelmed him, and his engine roared in response to whatever Barricade was experiencing. "Cade!" Bluestreak gasped. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone again as Barricade re-established the block on the bond.

"Friend Bluestreak!" Liat's fingers danced over his back as Bluestreak leaned over the desk, trying to keep himself upright. "Sit!" He pushed Bluestreak into a chair that he had pulled close. "I will get help." Before Bluestreak could stop him, the A'ovan flitted out of the office in a swirl of robes.

Bluestreak's comm pinged. He sat up and opened the line immediately, but slumped when he realized it was Prowl. "Hey," he said. "I guess that one woke you up, huh?"

Prowl's voice over the comm was only slightly muddied by recharge. "Yes, it did," Prowl replied. "What's going on with Barricade?"

"No idea. He's not answering me," Bluestreak said. He prodded gently at the block that Barricade had erected, and got no response. "Something happened, something bad. I've never felt anything like this from him. Not even when that thing with Haywire happened. But he's not answering comms, and he's still got a block up, and-"

"Yes, I tried comming him as well, and got no response," Prowl said. He sounded more alert now than he had just a moment earlier. "There's no sense in trying to force him to lower the block. He'll talk to us when he's ready. But let me know if he comms you first, please?" His voice and his portion of the bond broadcasted concern.

"I will," Bluestreak promised.

Just as Prowl disconnected the call, Liat returned with Hound in tow. "Hi, Bluestreak," the green mech said, offering him a smile. "Liat said something's wrong?" He gestured at the slim A'ovan who was hovering in the doorway, wringing his long-fingered hands together. "He thought you might be sick or something."

Bluestreak shook his helm and managed to return Hound's smile. "Barricade – my trinemate – something's happened. I know he's still online, but..." Bluestreak pulled a vent cycle, trying to steady the uneven spin of his spark in his chest. "He's absolutely furious. I've never felt him this angry before."

"Ah." Hound pulled up a chair and sat nearby. "Is he at work?" When Bluestreak nodded, Hound continued. "Do you think he got into a fight with someone?"

Bluestreak thought about that for a moment. "I don't think so," he said. "He likes most of his coworkers. And even then, knowing Cade it would be over faster than this. I don't have any idea what it could be." He frowned, his sensor wings flicking around behind him as he frantically considered the possibilities. "I hope he didn't get fired for something!" Even with the block in place, Bluestreak could still feel a simmering anger barely restrained behind the wall. "I wish he'd just answer my comm and let me know what's wrong."

"Friend Bluestreak, is all right?" Liat asked. Behind him, another A'ovan stuck its large-eyed head into the room, staring at Bluestreak.

"He's fine," Hound said. He stood up and returned the chair to where it had been, and smiled at Bluestreak again. "Liat was afraid you were having some kind of spark failure or some other sort of fault, and came running to find anyone who might know what was going on."

"Oh. No, I'm fine," Bluestreak said, managing another weak smile at Liat. "I'm just worried about my bond mate. But I'll be all right." He scrubbed his face and looked up at Hound. "Say, weren't you doing a run to Petrex today?"

Hound shrugged. "I was," he said. "But one of the deliveries cancelled, and you said you don't want us making a run unless our cargo areas are maxed."

"Ah. I didn't know there was a cancellation," Bluestreak said. He grimaced slightly, knowing that the other customers would probably be unhappy by the delay in their deliveries, but Bluestreak had decided that all inter-city runs needed to be full, unless the customer was paying extra for a rush delivery. Fuel costs were getting far too high these days for runs that weren't operating at max capacity. "All right. And thanks for checking on me, Hound. I appreciate it."

"Any time," Hound replied, and left the office.

Bluestreak managed to finish going over the reports with Liat before deciding to call it a day, and he left work a bit early. He was still distracted by the seething fury coming through the bond with Barricade, and knew he wouldn't be very productive. Besides, he also knew Barricade was getting off work soon. Maybe then he'd find out what was going on.

Bluestreak was almost home when he received a ping from Prowl: _Barricade is home. The Senate ordered Vector Sigma be shut down._

When he'd parsed Prowl's message, Bluestreak nearly swerved off of the road. They shut down Vector Sigma? That meant no more new Cybertronians until they brought it back online. That meant no new builds.

That meant no mentee for them.

Bluestreak rushed home and up to their flat as fast as he could, denials at the situation and anger at the Senate and grief for Barricade piling up in his processor one after the other. By the time he keyed open the door and flew into their flat, all Bluestreak wanted to do was to hug Barricade and Prowl and hope that everything was going to work out.

But before Bluestreak could take more than a step into the living area, Barricade whirled to face him from where he had been pacing. "They shut it down!" Barricade growled.

"I know. Prowl told me. I'm so sorry, Cade." Bluestreak walked towards Barricade, but paused when Prowl touched his shoulder. When Bluestreak stopped, Barricade started pacing around the room again. "Did they say why? Or for how long?"

Barricade's engine snarled. "They did it this way on purpose. It was calculated. The Festival of Lost Light starts tomorrow. They waited until most of the news bots had left for the day, and now the Senate is in recess. They're trying to bury this, let it simmer until the holiday is over, and-"

"This is big enough that it won't be buried," Prowl said calmly. His tone made Bluestreak think that this was a portion of the argument that they'd been over already. "And the shut down must only be temporary. I'm sure once the holiday is over they'll issue a clarifying statement about how long Vector Sigma will be offline."

"Indefinitely. **Indefinitely!** That's what they said!" Barricade waved his arms, and rage poured across the bond again. "They said Vector Sigma would be offline indefinitely until the energon supply could be stabilized. How long is that?" He stopped pacing and held up a hand, palm up. "A month?" He held up his other hand. "A year?" He shrugged. "A **century**? There's no timeframe for getting any new sources of energon online. All they can talk about is recycling and conservation and cutting back."

"Well, they've already been working on conservation and recycling," Bluestreak said, projecting as much calm as he could towards his agitated mate. "And they're also working on establishing new sources of energon. The Luna One project is moving ahead, and the solar refiners are proving promising. And if the orbital arrays are built like they're talking about, it could be pretty much an unlimited source of energon. The Energon Action Committee just did a presentation in Sana Dome that Urzul was telling me about, and-"

"And that's another thing!" Barricade rounded on Bluestreak, his sensor wings flared out as far as they would reach. He jabbed his thumb into his own chest plating. " **We** have to get permission to get a mentee. **We** have to meet certain conditions and be deemed suitable and fragging **beg** to get a new build. Meanwhile, organics can just spit out offspring on a whim!" He stalked over to Bluestreak and glowered at him. "Those A'ovans you're always hanging out with crank out a dozen eggs at a time, and nobody even blinks an optic. Povians can have a new youngling every fourteen months. And I don't know what the Akkiel do, but I'm sure they're the same. It's no wonder the fleshies keep begging for more room: they're going to out-number us before too long!"

"Cade!" Bluestreak said, his sensor wings lifting in shock. "A'ovans might lay a lot of eggs at once, but most of them don't survive to viability, and-" When Prowl put a hand on his shoulder, Bluestreak pulled a deep vent. "That's not the point. I'm just as upset that they've shut down Vector Sigma as you are, but you can't blame the organics for this. Some of them have been here for a millennia. Cybertron is their home as much as it’s ours."

Barricade shook his helm and stalked away from Bluestreak again, continuing his pacing. "This is **our** planet. They all came here and set up shop and never left. And now we're suffering because the Senate considers their needs at the same level as Cybertronians' needs." He glared at Bluestreak. "You don't hear the sorts of things they ask for. Most of their petitions don't even end up on the news. Some of their requests aren't even debated on the official record before they're granted." He stared out the door leading to their balcony, where night was falling. "More places to live. More energy. More accommodations. And the Senate just gives them what they want, pandering to their whims. Meanwhile, all regular mechs can afford is low-grade sludge." His sensor wings trembled and fell slightly. "Maybe those Cybertron First mechs have it right, after all."

Bluestreak shook his helm again, knowing how wrong Barricade had everything. But before Bluestreak could reply, Prowl spoke. "Cybertron First is a group of bigoted agitators whose only goal is to destabilize the government," he said, his voice carefully even. From him, Bluestreak could feel that Prowl had a tight rein on what he was allowing to flow through the bond. "Their propaganda is filled with half-truths and obvious bigotry."

As a fresh cascade of anger burned over the bond from Barricade, Bluestreak stepped between his two bond mates. "Cade, let's just see how long Vector Sigma will be offline," Bluestreak said, holding up his hands. "It can't be forever. They **must** have a plan."

He **hoped** they had a plan.

There was another wave of anguish from Barricade. Then he turned and pushed past Prowl and Bluestreak. "I'm going for a drive," he growled as he reached the door. "I'll be back later."

As the door slammed shut behind Barricade, Bluestreak took a step towards it, intending to go after him. But Prowl grabbed his arm and held him. "Let him go," Prowl said. "He needs to burn off some of that anger."

"What if he does something stupid? What if he hurts himself?" Bluestreak asked, still staring at the door. The urge to run after him was almost overwhelming.

Prowl pulled Bluestreak against him. "Then we'll know as soon as it happens." He pressed his lips against the side of Bluestreak's helm. "He's lashing out at anyone and everything right now. Let him calm down a bit, and then we can try talking to him again."

As soon as Prowl's arms went around him, Bluestreak leaned into his trine mate. "Oh, poor Cade," Bluestreak murmured into Prowl's collar fairing. "He wants a mentee so much."

"I know," Prowl said quietly. "But the Senate can't possibly leave Vector Sigma offline forever. Barricade isn't the only mech who will react the way he is reacting." He hugged Bluestreak close. "I have to believe there's a plan."

Prowl had to leave for work, and Bluestreak was left alone in the flat. He puttered around, doing little chores: straightening the data pads, dusting all the surfaces and sweeping the floor, putting away the clean cubes in the kitchen. He had reports he should have been working on, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. Not with Barricade out there alone. Alone, and hurting.

It was past the time that Bluestreak usually went to his room and laid down for recharge before Barricade came home. Bluestreak was standing in the door of the balcony, staring out at the night, when he heard the lock on the door of the flat chime.

He ran to the hallway in time to see Barricade closing the door. "Cade!" Bluestreak said. He started towards him, intending to hug his trinemate, but he paused. "I was so worried."

"I know," Barricade said. He sounded tired, his voice worn, but he gave Bluestreak a small smile. "You've been broadcasting your emotions all evening." He held out his arms and pulled Bluestreak into an embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you," he said, burying his face in Bluestreak's neck.

"And I'm so sorry about... About what the Senate did," Bluestreak said. He hesitated, gingerly feeling the place in his spark that Barricade inhabited. He wasn't sure how much to say, and didn't know what might set Barricade's fury aflame again. "But I'm sure Prowl's right. It's temporary. They **must** have a plan to bring it back online again."

Barricade stood still for a moment, his face still pressed into Bluestreak's neck. Then he sighed and stepped away, turning to the kitchen. "Yeah. Probably," he said. He pressed the button on the fuel dispenser. Leaning forward on the counter, Barricade waited for the fuel portion to warm. "Like Prowl said, they'll have some clarifying statement ready to go just when the holiday is winding down."

"Right!" Bluestreak exclaimed, grasping onto hope that Barricade was starting to come to terms with the Senate's decision. "And..." He wrung his hands slightly, still uncertain what topics would be safe to talk about. "And this will give us even more time to reach the minimum threshold. By the time they bring it back online, we might be well over the amount required!" He projected as much optimism as he could muster.

The fuel dispenser beeped, and Barricade pulled out the cube. He took a sip from it and grimaced. "We might," he said. He swirled the cube around, holding it up to the light to look at the murky purple liquid. "Or maybe they'll adjust the threshold again. They've done that before, you know: changing the goalposts to make it even harder to meet the requirements." He took another sip, and his lip curled up in distaste. "Maybe they'll require that you purchase only virgin fuel instead of this recycled stuff."

Bluestreak frowned. Virgin fuel was better in every way: it made a mech's engine more fuel efficient, it didn't gum up filters the way the recycled fuel did, and it tasted much, **much** better. But it was also more than four times the cost of recycled fuel. Only the most affluent, powerful mechs could afford it on a regular basis. If they had to switch to a better grade of fuel, they would have to rework their entire budget to account for it.

Then Bluestreak shook his helm. "Cade, there's no sense in worrying about things that might or might not happen. We should focus on what we can do now." He stood behind Barricade and wrapped his arms around his bond mate's waist, hugging him close. "And right now I'm just glad you're home safe."

Barricade finished drinking his fuel, set his cube on the counter, and turned to face Bluestreak. "I'm sorry I worried you," he repeated. He kissed Bluestreak's chevron, then smiled at him. "And you're right. We should just focus on what we can do now." He stretched. "And right now I think I'm ready for some recharge." He patted Bluestreak on the shoulder. "Coming?"

"I'm right behind you," Bluestreak said, grabbing Barricade's cube from the counter and rising it out. But in the back of his processor, he couldn’t help but think about the strange sense of determination he'd felt from Barricade just then.

But Bluestreak shrugged. At least Barricade was home; he could worry about everything else later. He turned and followed Barricade to his bedroom.


	16. Protest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Barricade take to the streets alongside other mechs to protest the Senate's actions.

The statement from the Senate was as bland as Barricade had expected.

They mentioned the shutdown of Vector Sigma, but it was buried in with a list of other conservation measures that were being undertaken due to the planet's rapidly dwindling energon reserves. In addition to stilling the forges, the announced measures included reducing the number inter-city transport trips for passengers, lowering of the average temperature in the eco-domes, reducing the lighting on the low-speed interchanges, halting the construction of new residential towers in Iacon, increasing the cost of fuel for all the various grades, and so on. Also, because the forges were being stilled, the smelting pits were also being cooled; deceased mechs would be stored until the pits could be brought back up to temperature. Finally, they made reference to the challenges of ensuring a stable supply of energy, discussed the ongoing negotiations with the planet's city-states regarding distribution and rationing, and detailed the plans they had for bringing new sources of energon online.

And in the end, they promised that all of the conservation measures would be ended once energon reserves recovered to a 'safe threshold.'

On the news broadcasts, analysts debated these statements, and pundits pored over the detailed plans in excruciating detail. Everyone agreed that it was a serious situation. The planet's energon resources had been falling for a century or more, but over the past decade the problem had become a crisis. Everyone agreed that the Senate had to do **something**. However, **what** exactly should have been done was endlessly debated, and the talking heads argued whether the steps the Senate had taken were the right ones.

In the first few days after the announcement, some of the commentators wondered whether the first step should have been rationing of energon, which would apply equally to all mechs regardless of status. After all, the richest, most powerful mechs on Cybertron could afford fuel no matter how much the cost was. Rising fuel costs tended to affect common mechs more than the elite.

A week later, those types of comments mysteriously vanished from the broadcasts.

The protests that had become an almost daily occurrence in Kaon escalated, growing larger and more organized. "You know it's bad here, when three mechs with good jobs living together have a hard time making ends meet," Barricade groused one afternoon as he and Bluestreak watched the news. "But it's even worse in places like Kaon. I don't blame the mechs there for this. The common mechs can't afford fuel. There's nowhere to live." He gestured at the entertainment unit, where the holo was showing scenes of a large protest in central Kaon. The protest had escalated until mechs were throwing rocks and other debris at the Enforcers who were trying to keep them away from the eco-dome they were marching towards. "Meanwhile the Povians are just sitting on top of some of the best real estate in the city."

Bluestreak frowned and gestured at the holo. "You know that could be Prowl there," he said, nudging Barricade with his pede. They watched as an Enforcer in riot gear was hit in the shoulder by a chunk of metal. "That could be him, out there getting hurt by those hooligans."

The low simmer of anger that had become the new background emotion from Barricade shifted slightly, becoming unsettled. "Well, obviously I don't want Prowl – or anyone else - to get hurt," Barricade said quickly. "Mechs just want to make themselves heard. And besides, that's probably just agitators, put in by the government to make the protestors look bad."

"Agitators from the government?" Bluestreak shook his head. "You realize how crazy that sounds, right?" he asked.

"It's true! I heard it from Flywheels. He's got buddies in Kaon, and **they** said that most of the marchers there are peaceful. Then they get these mechs all in full face masks showing up and doing that sort of slag." Barricade shrugged, then glanced away from the holo when the story changed to the election of a new city-state council in Vos. "Speaking of which, there's going to be a march here tomorrow. They're protesting the shutting down of Vector Sigma and all the other stuff. You're off work, right? Did you want to go?"

Bluestreak flicked his sensor wings, his unease making him twitchy. "Is it going to end up like the one in Kaon?" he asked, pointing at the holo. "I don't want to get mixed up in some riot."

"There won't be a riot," Barricade said. He shifted on the couch until he was leaning up against Bluestreak, and stroked a hand down Bluestreak's leg. "But if it looks like things are going to get ugly, I **promise** we'll leave right away."

Bluestreak considered, feeling Barricade's sincerity and enjoying the soothing feeling of him caressing his plating. As Barricade's hand started to wander higher towards his hip, Bluestreak shifted to allow Barricade better access to his interface panel. Barricade hadn't shown interest in any sort of intimacy since Vector Sigma had been shut down, and now he was in a good mood, too. Bluestreak wanted to make sure that good mood continued. "Sure," he finally said. "I'll go. But we leave at the first sign of trouble."

"Absolutely," Barricade purred, and leaned in to kiss Bluestreak.

Prowl, however, declined when the invitation to attend the march was passed on to him. "I am actually working that protest," he said when Bluestreak told him about it in the morning. Prowl slugged back his morning fuel and put the cube in the washer as he gathered up his things to go. "After what's been happening in Kaon, we've been tasked with making sure that the same thing doesn't happen here."

"But you're all right with us going?" Bluestreak asked, remembering the image of the Kaon Enforcer being struck by a rock.

Prowl nodded, then shrugged. "You know that I am just as unhappy you are about the Senate's decision," he said. He glanced up at Barricade as the dark mech entered the kitchen. " **Peaceful** protests are a valuable way for citizens to express their opinions. If I didn't have to work, I'd be marching right alongside you." Prowl reached out, taking Barricade's hand in his. "But I'll be with you in spirit, trust me."

Barricade pulled Prowl into a tight embrace. "Thanks, Prowl," he murmured, and Bluestreak felt Barricade's gratefulness. "Thank you for understanding."

Prowl kissed the tip of Barricade's nose and flooded the bond with his adoration of the dark mech. "I know how much getting a new build means to you," Prowl said, then looked at Bluestreak. "Or rather, how much it means to **all** of us. You two have gotten me excited about having a mentee of our own. If marching on the Decagon today gets us even one meter closer to having Vector Sigma restarted, how can I possibly tell you not to go?" He stepped away from Barricade, and hugged Bluestreak. "Just... be safe, you two. I'll be watching for you."

The march itself was more than anything Bluestreak had imagined. There were easily twenty thousand mechs in the square, holding up signs berating the Senate's decision, waving flags of purple, and calling out the rising costs of fuel and housing in Iacon. A contingent of Reversionists were in attendance, protesting the inability of families to perform proper smelting rites for their dead, while construction bots chanted about their jobs that had suddenly been cancelled. But all around him, Bluestreak saw smiles on mechs' faces. Yes, mechs were angry, but there was also a feeling that the Senate would **have** to listen to them. There was a sense that they really could change the world.

As they passed the Decagon, Bluestreak received a ping from Prowl. He looked up and saw their bond mate standing on an overpass, looking down on the crowd passing below. "Barricade, look! There's Prowl!" He tugged on Barricade's arm and pointed.

Barricade and Bluestreak waved at Prowl, who lifted his own arm in return. A few meters away, a mech saw Prowl's wave and cheered. "Look! Even the Enforcers are with us!"

In moments, several of the Enforcers standing along the same overpass waved, and the crowd roared.

Surely, if the Iacon Enforcers were on their side, the Senate **must** listen to them.

* * *

The marches in Iacon became a routine thing. Every few days, a new march would be announced. When they were able, Bluestreak's trine attended. Sometimes Bluestreak went with Barricade, and once Bluestreak went just with Prowl. (Prowl had to cover up his Enforcer emblems when participating, but he happily joined his bond mates to march when his schedule allowed.) Sometimes the marches were smaller, and sometimes they were larger, but they were always loud and definitive about what they wanted.

To Bluestreak, it felt like progress, even if the Senate was wholly unmoved by the protests. From Prowl, he felt satisfaction that the marches in Iacon were peaceful and orderly, unlike the ones taking place in Kaon and Tarn. And from Barricade, he felt a fierce determination. Bluestreak was just glad that Barricade had a useful way to channel his anger and frustration.

The topic of the protests came up at work, of course. The marches tended to gridlock the city in an area where traffic was already a concern, and businesses near the Decagon complained about the trash that the marchers left behind in their wake. But most of the mechs at work were sympathetic. Some, like Bluestreak and his trine, were mostly unhappy about the stilling of Vector Sigma. Others disliked how hard it was to simply afford enough fuel to survive now. They all seemed jealous of the elite mechs who made the decisions for all of Cybertron, but who didn't have to live with the direct consequences of those decisions.

But, as Bluestreak learned, not all of the organics working at Qhasel Logistics had a positive view of the marchers.

One day, Bluestreak brought in a flag he'd bought during the march he'd attended the previous day. He liked the purple colour, and he hung it behind his desk. Hound noticed it when he dropped off the manifests from the evening runs, and gave Bluestreak a thumbs up.

Tsikla, the tiny Povian who did filing for Bluestreak and his assistant, came into work shortly after Hound left. He climbed the stairs to his desk, which was raised so that it was at the same level as Bluestreak's, and turned to greet Bluestreak like he always did. Then he froze.

As soon as he looked at Bluestreak, Tsikla began chittering angrily under his breath.

Bluestreak frowned at Tsikla. The Povian hadn't engaged his translator, but Bluestreak knew enough Povian to pick up that what he was saying wasn't polite. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"That!" Tsikla pointed at the flag behind Bluestreak's desk. His ears were plastered down against his head, and he hissed through his rebreather. "Hateful! Bigoted! Horrible!" He stomped his tiny foot on the platform his desk sat on. "I can't believe you support that!"

Confused, Bluestreak glanced at the flag, then back at Tsikla. "I'm sorry? I got it at the march yesterday and I didn't think anyone would mind if I –" He paused at another outburst of angry chittering from Tsikla. "We're just protesting them shutting down Vector Sigma, and all the other things they're doing. I mean, I know they turned down the heat in your eco-dome, and that can't be comfortable. We're just trying to -"

Tsikla's fur had bristled as Bluestreak spoke, until he finally grabbed his bag and stomped back down the stairs. "Excuse me, but I have some filing to do for Malin today," he snapped, and stormed out of the office, passing Liat who was on his way in.

"Friend Tsikla unhappy?" Liat asked, looking after the Povian as he stalked down the hallway away from Bluestreak's office.

"I guess?" Bluestreak said, his sensor wings drooping behind him. He took the datapads from Liat and frowned. "He saw the flag I hung up and suddenly he was very angry."

Liat's dark eyes focused on the new flag behind Bluestreak's desk and widened. "Ah. Oh. Yes." His long fingers wavered, moving as if he wanted to stroke them down Bluestreak's arm, but he jerked them back before touching him. "Yes. I see problem. Oh."

"You do?" Bluestreak looked at the flag again. "Then can you explain it to me? Because somehow I've upset Tsikla with that and I'm not even sure what I did."

Liat made a soft buzzing sound behind his rebreather, and his fingers snapped back into fists. "The purple. Is colour of Cybertron First. Is colour of their sign." He ducked his head and began backing out of Bluestreak's office. "Povians, much affected in Kaon. Trouble spread to Tarn. Now, surely, trouble comes here." He made the uncertain buzzing sound again as he reached the hallway. "Urzul, will explain better. I will find her." Then he fled down the hallway and out of sight.

Bluestreak looked at the flag again. When the purple flags had shown up at the first rally, Bluestreak had really liked their symbolism: they were the exact same shade of purple as the lowest quality recycled fuel. Bluestreak and his trine had had to purchase the sickly purple fuel enough times to meet their budget that he identified strongly with it as a symbol of the difference between the average mech and the elites in their towers. Plus, the purple flags were an easy way to identify mechs who were on your side, mechs who supported better fuel distribution, more equitable solutions for the energy crisis, and eliminating the huge disparity between the elite mechs who ruled Cybertron and the rest of the population.

Cybertron First, on the other hand, was one of the more virulent anti-organic movements on the planet. Bluestreak knew that they had formed in Kaon before spreading to Tarn and Vos. He'd seen images of the movement's symbols on the news: a severe-looking, stylized mech's face with narrowed optics. He had known that the movement had adopted the purple colour of the Iacon marches for their symbol, but that was a recent thing.

But now, Bluestreak thought he could also see how an organic might view the flag as tacitly siding with Cybertron First.

Slag, that hadn't been his intention at **all**.

By the time Urzul came to his office a few minutes later, Bluestreak was already taking down the flag. "Urzul," he said, wadding the flag up and stuffing it into his subspace. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what the flag might mean to an organic. And to be honest, I don't think that a lot of mechs here do." Bluestreak knew that Hound had a huge soft spot for organics; the green mech would probably be horrified to think his thumbs up motion about the flag could be interpreted as support for Cybertron First.

Urzul nodded as Bluestreak spoke, then dragged her fingers down his shoulder placatingly. "I understand. Liat explained. Liat speaking to Tsikla." She made the same buzzing noise that Liat had made before continuing. "Povians, many live in Kaon. Domes, often vandalized. Domes, often ruptured. Injuries common. Cybertron First, likely offenders." She shook her head and blinked at Bluestreak, her hands resting against his chest. "Now, trouble moving here."

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Bluestreak said, lifting his sensor wings encouragingly. "I mean, Cybertron First might be using our flag, but all of the fuel shortage marches I've been to have been peaceful. And I haven't heard anyone say anything against organics." He smiled at her as sincerely as he could. "They aren't the same movement at all, really."

"With respect." Urzul's hands lifted until only the tips of her fingers touched Bluestreak's plating. Bluestreak frowned, remembering that the gesture was an A'ovan way of expressing rejection. "Friend Bluestreak not listening with organic ears. Friend Bluestreak not seeing with organic eyes." Her dark eyes seemed to bore into his optics as she leaned away from him. "Friend Bluestreak only hearing what you wish to hear."

"What do you mean?" Bluestreak asked. He lowered his wings as much as he could, and held out his hands, fanning his fingers wide. _My mind is open to learning_ , the gesture meant in A'ovan. It was one of the first tactile expressions he'd learned when hiring on at Qhasel Logistics. "What **should** I be hearing?"

Urzul stroked her hand down Bluestreak's shoulder once more. "Listen for who shoulders blame. Listen for the solutions to fuel shortages." She blinked at him slowly. "Organics, never in good place in those conversations."

Bluestreak pondered Urzul's words for the rest of the day and on his drive home that night. He thought about the speeches he'd listened to at the marches he had attended, and he thought about the calls to action from the organizers: Subsidizing housing costs for mechs in the large city-states, making higher-quality fuel more available and affordable, bringing Vector Sigma back online, and reducing the wages paid to Senators and elite mechs in the ruling classes.

It all made sense. It all sounded fine. It all sounded **reasonable**.

But when he replayed some of the speeches in his head, he focused on the words being used. As he rode the lift up to his trine's flat, Bluestreak's optics widened. "Support lower cost fuel and housing for native Cybertronians." Not organics; nothing was ever said about their cost of living. "Help support a healthy Cybertronian population by bringing Vector Sigma back online." In other words, to avoid being outnumbered by organics, as Barricade had muttered quietly so many times. "Elite mechs have lived above true Cybertronians for too long." True Cybertronians, the ones created from the forges of the planet.

Not organics.

"I need to apologize to Tsikla tomorrow," Bluestreak said, staring down into his cube of fuel. The dark purple colour seemed to mock him. "I had no idea how those marches were being perceived by the organics. I never even thought to ask."

"To be fair, I don't think any mech has really thought about it that way," Prowl said. They were standing in the kitchen, neither of them wanting to go out into the living area where Barricade was watching a raucous comedy. Prowl glanced at the door of the kitchen, and Bluestreak could feel him gently touching the bond with Barricade. Prowl's sensor wings dipped slightly when he found the bond still blocked. "I know I hadn't thought of it like that."

Bluestreak nodded morosely. None of them had thought about it that way. But Barricade refused to even consider that point of view.

Barricade had rolled his optics when Bluestreak had mentioned the undertones the organics heard in the fuel shortage protest speeches. "Whatever," Barricade snorted. "It's just organics being overly sensitive. What do you expect? They've been handed stuff for so long that when they aren't getting exactly what they want, they get all mopey." He frowned at Bluestreak. "You're still going to tomorrow's march, right?"

"Well... No," Bluestreak said. He pulled the flag out of his subspace and tossed it on the table. "I think I need to think about this."

Prowl nodded. "I'm concerned about the message these marches are giving, both to mechs and to organics," he said. "Perhaps all of us should take a step back to reassess our involvement in the protests, and see if we can focus our efforts on solutions that would benefit everyone on the planet."

Barricade's face had darkened, and Bluestreak felt a flare of anger over the bond. "Well, tough," Barricade said. "I'm meeting Tankor at the march and then we were going out for drinks. If you two don't want to come, fine, but you don't get to dictate what I do."

Understanding that the conversation wouldn't have ended well, Bluestreak and Prowl had retreated into the kitchen to finish drinking their fuel.

Bluestreak swirled the fuel in his cube. "It's funny how we can live alongside organics for so long, but still see things in very different ways." He vented quietly. "I'll need to make a point to listen more closely to what my coworkers say about things, and not make assumptions."

Prowl gulped down the last of his fuel, grimacing at the taste as he rinsed out his cube. "I have a friend in Interspecies Relations. I'll mention this to him. They might have already picked up on it, but I know there haven't been any bulletins issued regarding possible conflict." Prowl pulled Bluestreak in for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry I have to run off," Prowl said quietly, glancing towards the living area again. "It wasn't my intention to irritate him right before going to work."

"It's all right," Bluestreak said. "And it's not your fault; I'm the one who brought it up in the first place. And I guess it's all right if he keeps going to the marches, at least for now." He listened as another peal of laughter came from the entertainment unit, and he smiled. "He likes this show. Hopefully that'll be a good distraction for him."

"I hope so, too." Prowl stepped into the hallway. "I'm off to work, Barricade!"

"See ya," Barricade said, not turning away from the show, but he waved over his shoulder.

With a frown, Bluestreak watched as Prowl left the flat before he slowly walked into the living area. He settled onto the couch next to Barricade, the remainder of his cube still in hand. "What did I miss?" he asked.

Barricade glanced at Bluestreak and smiled. His anger had mostly faded, thankfully, and had been replaced by amusement. "The convoy class was just mistaken for a tanker," he said, and threw his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders as they curled up together to watch the show.


	17. Divisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terrorist act results in a planet - and a trine - divided.

A millennia later, when everything was done and settled, Bluestreak looked back and decided that the bombing of Sana Dome was the ultimate tipping point... Both for the planet, and for his trine.

Bluestreak was roused from recharge very early one morning when Prowl bolted out of his berth and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Bluestreak could hear Prowl speaking to someone over comms in the living area.

Bluestreak couldn't imagine who would be calling Prowl at such an early hour. Recharge called to him (despite losing the warm frame he'd been curled up with), but his curiosity nagged at him. With a sudden stab of worry, he wondered if something had happened to one of Prowl's mentors. Maybe Turbine had gotten into an accident at one of his aerial stunt shows, or Barrage had been hurt in an industrial accident at the refining plant where he worked. But when he touched the bond gently, Bluestreak could only feel a firm resolve from Prowl.

By the time Bluestreak staggered out of the bedroom, squinting against the light streaming out of the kitchen, Prowl was finishing up a cube of fuel and was gathering his things to leave. "What's up?" Bluestreak asked, leaning against the kitchen doorway as he watched Prowl gather his work kit. "Are you going in to work? I thought you were on afternoons now."

"I am," Prowl said. His optics were slightly dim, a sign that he had not gotten nearly enough recharge, but his gaze was still sharp as he looked at Bluestreak. "And yes, I got called up for emergency duty. There's been... Well, they're calling it an accident at this point." A flicker of doubt streaked across the bond before Prowl suppressed it. "There was an explosion at Sana Dome. There are casualties, and it's being evacuated." 

Those words finally managed to shake the fog from Bluestreak's processor. "Slag," he muttered. He watched as Prowl collected his cuffs and battlestick from the counter and subspaced them. "Do they know what happened?"

Prowl shook his helm. "That's all the information I have so far," he said, then glanced down the darkened hallway leading to the three bedrooms in their flat. "I think Barricade's still in recharge; I made sure the door to his bedroom was closed before I took the call. He got in late last night. Try not to wake him, all right? And don't rile him if he does wake up... Please."

Bluestreak grimaced, but nodded. Barricade was on days now, but he was staying out late with friends from work and mechs that he'd met at the protests. Barricade continued to attend the protests alone, even after Bluestreak and Prowl said that they didn't support the sort of language being used by the speakers. Barricade continued to dismiss their objections, saying that they'd been listening to too many mechs with "delicate plating" or "faulty logic circuits." He was fine when the topic of conversation was anything other than politics or the latest news. Unfortunately, it seemed like that's all he wanted to talk about these days. Barricade seemed to have developed a skill for turning even the most innocuous conversation into a discussion about how Sentinel Prime and the elite mechs of Iacon were conspiring with organics, or how the best solution to the planet's problems was the dissolution of the Senate.

Slowly, it started to feel like they were bonded to a mech they didn't even know.

Keeping a partial block up on the bond with Barricade just felt easier than getting into another fight about who deserved more energon, and who was to blame for the current state of the planet's systems.

After Bluestreak kissed Prowl goodbye, he considered trying to get a bit more recharge. He didn't have to be up for another three hours, but the thought of climbing back into an empty berth was not appealing at all. And while he missed curling up next to Barricade, he didn't want to wake him up, either.

Bluestreak drew a cube of fuel for himself and walked out to the balcony. Between the residential towers rising next to theirs, Bluestreak could just see the edge of Lago Dome. Somewhere behind it, near where Sana Dome sat just out of sight, he could see smoke rising into the air, and a flicker of what might have been emergency lights.

Bluestreak tried to remember what dome Tsikla lived in.

He went inside and turned on the entertainment unit. It didn't take long for him to find a news channel that had footage of the devastation. Whatever had happened, it had ripped a huge hole in the side of the dome.

The news bot was just announcing that the area was being locked down by the Enforcers, and that the first indications were that the explosion had been intentional. However, the announcer took pains to explain that the focus was on ensuring the Povians who lived in the dome were safe, and helping the injured, and that the investigation was still in the early stages.

By the time Barricade wandered out into the living area, stretching and yawning, Bluestreak was on edge. His optics felt as though they'd been assaulted by images of injured Povians and Cybertronians, and his audials were filled with the chittering sobs the news bots had recorded of Povians who were terrified, or who were mourning their dead.

"What's going on?" Barricade asked, settling on the couch next to Bluestreak. His presence in Bluestreak's spark was dull and foggy, barely able to be sensed through the blocks both of them had up.

"Sana Dome was bombed last night," Bluestreak said. He glanced at Barricade, watching his reaction. When Barricade just stared blankly at the vid screen, Bluestreak released his hold on the block slightly. "Prowl got called into work because of it." Still there was no reaction, and Bluestreak finally opened the bond, gingerly brushing against the block that Barricade had up. "It's bad. There's about six hundred Povians dead so far."

Finally, a reaction: Barricade's optics widened slightly. "Six hundred?" he repeated.

Bluestreak nodded. "They're diurnal. Most of them were asleep when the bomb went off." His optics flicked to the screen, where they were showing a clip from earlier in the morning, of the rescue crews pulling bodies out of the debris of the dome. "And they're saying about fifty mechs died, too; most of them were just flying or driving past the dome when the explosion happened."

Barricade's sensor wings dipped, and a slight frown creased his face. "That's... awful," he said. Bluestreak felt the block drop slightly, and a thread of worry slipped through the crack. Barricade glanced at Bluestreak. "Did Prowl say where he was being deployed? Or what happened?"

"No," Bluestreak said. He scooted closer to Barricade, just until their shoulders touched. "Just that he got called in." He looked back at the vid screen. "But they might have some details soon."

The worry from Barricade got thicker. "And they're sure it was a bomb? And not an accident?" he asked, his optics still fixed on the screen.

Bluestreak shrugged. "That's what they're saying, but I'm not sure how they decided that," he replied. "We might get some more information soon. The Prime is supposed to be making a statement in a few minutes."

With an almost tangible force, the block was slammed back up between him and Barricade. "Figures he'd want a word in edgewise," Barricade growled. He lurched up from the couch in a sudden motion, and stalked towards the kitchen. "I'll give you a preview of what he's going to say: 'We're going to take away some more of your freedoms, but trust me. Trust the Senate. We're doing this for your **own good**.'"

"What are you talking about?" Bluestreak asked, while berated himself at the same time for engaging with Barricade's theories. He followed Barricade out into the kitchen. "What do you think they're going to do?"

"Whatever they can to put their thumbs more firmly on the citizens of Cybertron," Barricade said as he drew his morning fuel. He leaned on the counter and watched the cube fill, one hand on the surface of the counter and the other on his hip. "Just wait. They'll blame it on the fuel protests somehow."

Bluestreak remembered Tsikla's visceral reaction to the purple protest flag, and Urzul's explanations for why the protests didn't go over well with the organics at work. "You have to admit that there's a connection between the fuel protests and Cybertron First," Bluestreak said, aware that he was treading on very fragile ground. He knew if Prowl had been home, he would have stepped between the two of them to stop this conversation from even happening. "The Povian domes in Kaon have been vandalized so many times they aren't even bothering to fix them now. They're leaving that city in droves because they feel like it's not safe. Cybertron First has all but admitted they're responsible for damaging the domes in Kaon, saying they want to reserve what energon the city-state gets for mechs alone. And Cybertron First is using the same colour as the fuel protests, so –"

Barricade's fist came down on the counter. "Cybertron First is just trying to **protect** us! They want us to be able to live like we did before all these organics came here, sucking up our fuel and energy and housing and jobs." He glowered at the cube as it finished filling, and the bond was suddenly blown open with frustration and fury. "They want what the Senate is denying us. So **of course** the Senate is going to blame them."

"Cade, listen to yourself," Bluestreak said. Over the bond, he threw as much of his own fear and confusion at Barricade as he could, hearing Barricade's engine rev when he felt it. "A lot of organics and mechs died tonight because of this! And what do you mean, live like we did before the organics came?" Bluestreak's wings flared out as he felt his own frustration peak. "The Povians arrived here centuries before either of us were ever forged! We've lived alongside them and the other organics all our lives. Sure, there aren't that many in Praxus, but they've been here, on Cybertron! And now that we're faced with a problem that affects all of us **equally** ," Bluestreak emphasized the word, "now all of a sudden they aren't Cybertronians?" He took a step into the kitchen, meeting Barricade's glare. "What do you want the Povians to do? Go back to their planet? They can't, because it's literally **gone** , blasted to bits! They live here now. The A'ovans who live here are in the same situation. They were forced out during a horrendous civil war. They came here for safety, for someplace safe to live. They are Cybertronian as much as you are."

Barricade's engine snarled as he snatched up his cube of fuel. "I knew you were an organic lover, but I never thought you'd take their side over our own," Barricade said, his deep voice sounding low and dangerous. "Until they can survive here without all of the crutches they have in place so they can live on this **alien** planet that isn't theirs... Until they have to live on the sludge recycled from everyone else's waste... Until they have to **ask for permission** to have a sparkling to care for..." Barricade's voice crackled with static. "Until they have to do all of that, they are not Cybertronians. And they **don't belong here**."

With that, Barricade pushed his way past Bluestreak and stalked out of the kitchen. A few moments later, Bluestreak heard the door to his bedroom slam shut.

From Prowl, Bluestreak felt a questioning pulse and a swirl of concern. He sent back as much reassurance as he could, threaded through with guilt.

So much for not riling up Barricade.

* * *

Barricade had so much wrong, but he was right in how the Senate would react.

The Senate placed the blame for the explosion squarely on Cybertron First. Flanked by senators, Sentinel Prime made a statement later in the morning after the explosion. He said that evidence had been found at the scene that made the dissident group the main suspect, and then went on to condemn the group outright. "These terrorists, these dissidents who call themselves Cybertron First... They do not speak for you, and they do not put our planet first. They are deceiving you into thinking they have your best interests at spark." The Prime stared at the camera, his optics blazing. "They operate only from a place of selfishness. Do not fall prey to their empty promises."

The Prime and the Senate took swift action. Many city-states that had openly chafed against the authority of the Senate saw their powers drastically curbed. One of these city-states was Vos. Their council had publically sympathized with Cybertron First, specifically because most Vosians needed a high-quality fuel in order for their flight engines to run well. The cost of that fuel was driving many Vosians to dangerous, illegal refineries, and the new council wanted to put a stop to that. When the Vosian council expressed approval of Cybertron First's aims, the Senate stripped the council completely of power and replaced them with an appointed custodial government.

Kaon, the forging ground for the Cybertron First movement, was placed under martial law, with strict curfews and checkpoints scattered around the city. Despite that effort, Megatron still made his voice heard. The gladiator had risen as the defacto leader of the Cybertron First movement, speaking out against what he saw as inequity in fuel distribution and corruption within the Senate. Megatron and his fellow gladiators commandeered the broadcast booth at the next arena bout so that he could have his say.

"They call us dissidents! They call us deceivers! They call us law breakers! But we are **patriots**. We are **true** Cybertronians, standing up for every mech who has risen from the pools at the base of Vector Sigma!" The bulky grey mech's face scowled into the camera. "And now these oligarchs seek to silence our voices! Hear me, Cybertronians! Hear me, and listen to how the Senate is deceiving **you**! We will not lay down and let the muddied wheels of the Senate grind us into dust. We will rise up! We will-"

The broadcast was cut off before Megatron could say anything more, but his message was played and replayed, over and over, shared over the datanet and passed privately from mech to mech even after the news stations were told to stop rebroadcasting it. Bluestreak came home one evening after work to find the message playing on repeat on their entertainment unit, after Barricade had already gone to work. Bluestreak deleted it before Prowl could see it. He knew it would only upset Prowl, what with all the hours he was putting in at work.

The protests that had been occurring in the most populated city-states across the planet were also banned, but that did not stop mechs from gathering illegally. With Kaon on lockdown, the largest of those gatherings were now in Iacon. The Iacon Enforcers were put on double shifts, patrolling the areas around the Decagon and the eco-domes, and thousands of mechs were arrested over the next month. The arrests were often violent, and several Enforcers had to be sent for repairs after every unauthorized march.

Fortunately, Prowl hadn't been damaged... Yet. But Bluestreak feared that it was only a matter of time before Prowl got unlucky. Bluestreak wished that Prowl had finished his tactical training, which might have gotten him off the street and into an office where it was safer.

Bluestreak had been so sure that the anger would eventually simmer down and fade. He had hoped that some new scandal or issue would rise to prominence to distract the protestors, but the ongoing arrests only seemed to galvanize mechs who had already been angry.

...Including Barricade.

It was a long, lonely month for Bluestreak. Prowl was almost constantly at work, and when he wasn't working he was deep in recharge. Bluestreak only saw him for minutes at a time when Prowl was on his way out the door after recharging, or coming home almost dead on his pedes after working for a full day straight. Bluestreak could feel the exhaustion coming from Prowl whenever they were home together, and Bluestreak did whatever he could to make sure Prowl got as much rest as he possibly could.

Barricade, on the other hand, was home on a fairly regular schedule, but Bluestreak rarely saw him. He would come home, grab fuel, and vanish into his bedroom. He came and went at odd hours, even when Bluestreak knew he wasn't working or in class, and he rebuffed Bluestreak's attempts at conversation, responding to questions with single-word answers. Meanwhile, the block that Barricade kept up between himself and his trinemates became a constant in Bluestreak's spark.

But the worst was when Barricade's mentors finally called to check on him. "We haven't heard from him at all," Redjaw said the evening they called, hoping to catch Barricade at home. "We left him several messages, especially after that ugliness with the eco-dome in Iacon, but he hasn't gotten back to us." Redjaw frowned. "Is everything all right?"

Bluestreak stared at the holovid, trying to formulate a response. What to tell them? That their mentee seemed to sympathize with the terrorists who were suspected to have killed so many Povians? That he was blocking out his trinemates? That Bluestreak wasn't even sure who the mech was that he was bonded to anymore?

Finally, Bluestreak settled on a wan smile. "All this trouble... It's been pretty hard on all of us," he said. "But I'll let him know that you called, and that you're worried about him."

"Thank you, Bluestreak," Sidewire said, smiling. Bluestreak felt a pang when he realized that Sidewire had the same smile that Barricade used when he smiled at Bluestreak. Primus, he missed Barricade's smile. Before closing the call, Sidewire added, "I hope to hear from him soon."

 _So do I_ , Bluestreak thought as he disconnected the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it was not an inspiration for this chapter, there's a song that fits the mood of it very well:  
> [Genesis, Domino (Pt 1 & 2)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBxemLQzE9Y)


	18. Perseverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak struggles to hold his trine together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music for this chapter: [_Perseverance_ by Berlinist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1c5gV3EpRA), from the Gris soundtrack.

With no one at home to talk to, Bluestreak started spending more and more time away from his trine's flat.

Bluestreak had made up with Tsikla, expressing his relief that neither the Povian nor his family were hurt in the bombing, and Tsikla accepted Bluestreak's apology for bringing the flag into the office by inviting Bluestreak over to his den for a meal. Tsikla's mate did her best, purchasing a tiny vial of high grade for Bluestreak. He figured that it was the thought that mattered. Meanwhile, their offspring were fascinated by Bluestreak. He spent most of the evening with pups crawling all over him. He finished off the evening by transforming to give the pups a ride around the dome, much to their screeching delight.

Bluestreak also took some time to make little adjustments to the operation of the Praxus office that had opened a few years previously. They were tedious changes that could probably have been left to a junior manager, but Bluestreak found he had time for them now. He also started going out for drinks with Trailbreaker, Hound or Bumblebee after work. Bluestreak had avoided that type of expense while they had been savings up for their application to Vector Sigma. But now...

Well, now Bluestreak wasn't even sure that he'd still be trined by the time Vector Sigma was brought back online.

That thought never failed to bring Bluestreak to the edge of tears, so he tried not to think it very often.

One morning, about a month and a half after the bombing, Bluestreak got up early to take a call from his mentors. He had spoken to them shortly after the bombing, mostly to reassure them that he and his trine were all safe. As he found himself dropping deeper and deeper into loneliness, Bluestreak very much looked forward to speaking to his mentors again.

When the holovid chimed with the incoming call, so early that the stars were still out, Bluestreak practically leapt to accept the comm. "Good morning, Cator, Culi, Ora!" he said, settling down in front of the receiver. He spoke quietly, cognizant that Prowl was recharging in his bedroom and not wanting to wake him. "It's so good to see you all."

"Well, it's evening for us, Bluestreak," Cygnus said with a smile. "I hope this wasn't too early for you."

"It's all right," Bluestreak said. He shrugged. "I'm just happy to hear from you."

Caelum leaned closer to the hologrid and narrowed his optics. "You look terrible, Blue," he said. "Have you been recharging well? Is there anything wrong?"

Bluestreak felt his lower lip quiver. Slag, yes, there was something wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was break down in tears on the holovid in front of his family. They would feel awful, being so far away and unable to do anything, and he wouldn't feel any better either. But what he wouldn't give to feel Caelum's strong arms around him, and have Lightbraid rubbing his back, and press his face into Cygnus's chest.

He was an adult now. He'd been on his own for over a century. He could handle this on his own. He **had** to handle this on his own, somehow.

Bluestreak shrugged again. "Just the usual," he managed to croak out, hoping the smile he flashed covered up the feedback in his voice.

His mentors all glanced at one another, and Caelum frowned. "Bluey, sweetspark, what's wrong?"

Caelum always could see right through Bluestreak, almost as if he could peer right into his spark.

And at the nickname Caelum had used for him ever since he'd been forged, Bluestreak felt the dam holding back his emotions crack and crumble.

Bluestreak finally let his sensor wings sag down against his back, and he felt his face crumple to show the misery he was feeling. "Everything's wrong, Culi," Bluestreak said, not even caring about the warble in his voice. What control he had left he used to maintain the block on his spark bonds; he didn't want to wake up Prowl, and Barricade...

Well.

"Everything's wrong. Everything's gone wrong and I don't know how to fix it." Bluestreak lifted his hands, holding them out in front of him as if he could hold his anguish in them. "Prowl's been working for a month straight. The Enforcers here are being stretched thin. I know they called up help from other city-states, like Praxus." Bluestreak saw Lightbraid nod as he barreled on, the words pouring out of him. "Prowl's dead on his wheels. As soon as he comes home, he falls into recharge." Bluestreak's voice caught as he thought of the news stories about damaged Enforcers and the situations they'd been called in to deal with. "And I'm so worried about him, worried that he's not getting enough rest, or that he's going to get injured, or, or... Or worse..." His words trailed off.

"Oh, Bluestreak," Lightbraid said quietly. Her wings were just as low as his on her back.

"And Barricade?" Cygnus prompted.

"Cade..." Bluestreak felt his grief welling up in his spark again, and he clamped down on the bond as hard as he could to keep anything from leaking through to his bond mates. "He's been..." Bluestreak shook his helm. "You know how much he wants a mentee. Ever since we found Prowl it's been almost all he's thought about. And when they shut down Vector Sigma..." Bluestreak let his hands fall to his lap, and his gaze followed. His hands rested limply on his legs. "It was like something inside of him broke. He just hasn't been... He hasn't been my Cade. And I... And I don't know how to fix it." His last words came out of his vocalizer barely above a whisper.

"Oh, Bluey." Bluestreak lifted his optics when he heard Caelum's quiet voice. "I'm so sorry."

"Have you tried just talking to him?" Lightbraid asked.

"Of **course** I've tried!" Bluestreak glared at the screen but immediately softened his expression when he saw the concern on his mentors' faces. "But he just won't let me. It's like he's retreated into a shell. He's got a block up between us all the time. And he gets upset so easily. Prowl and I just decided that it's easier to let him be and..." He worked his intake. "I don't know what else to do."

"He's your bond mate. The three of you are as close as three mechs can be," Caelum said gently. "Keep trying. Even if he pushes you away, just let him know you're there. Let him know you're willing to talk, and that you're willing to listen to him." Caelum leaned back into the arm that Lightbraid threw around his waist. "Just keep trying. Showing him that you care for him is the best thing you can do."

Bluestreak bit back the bitter reply that jumped to the front of his processor. Caelum made it sound so easy. But Bluestreak nodded, knowing that his oraculi was just trying to help. "I'll try," he said dully.

"We've been so worried about you, Blue," Cygnus said. "We see what's been going on when we watch the news, and Light's told us about the Enforcers from Praxus that were sent to Iacon... And we can't help but worry, for you and your trine."

"It **is** a little scary sometimes," Bluestreak said. He wiped at his face, smearing it free of the coolant that had dripped unnoticed from his optics. "But I'll manage somehow. I have to."

"Bluestreak," Lightbraid said, leaning forward intently. "With everything going on right now, have you considered moving back to Praxus?"

"No," Bluestreak said, the question surprising him into sitting up straighter. He blinked. "I mean... I'd like to come back for a visit, of course, but we've all got jobs here, and a flat. We couldn't just pick up and move back to Praxus on a whim."

"I'm sure you could find work here," Lightbraid said, her wings tipping upwards encouragingly. "I know I could find a place for Prowl, and I'm positive that you and Barricade would have no problem finding something."

Cygnus was nodding as Lightbraid spoke. "The cost of living is lower here, too. Praxus still has its own energon refinery, so we don't have to import as much. I know the three of you have been living on a tight budget for a while, but you could probably relax it a bit if you moved back home."

Back **home**. Bluestreak looked down at his hands again, clasped tightly in his lap. Back to Praxus. It was so tempting. He missed the Crystal Gardens, and the quiet residential streets. He missed the place near his mentors' home that sold the delicious bismuth squares. He missed being able to see his mentors as often as he wanted.

But.

"Moving back to Praxus wouldn't solve the problem about Vector Sigma," Bluestreak said flatly. He looked back up at the hologrid and shook his helm. "That's what started everything. We were so close to meeting the support threshold, and then..." He shrugged. "Even if we do move, Vector Sigma will still be offline."

"They can't keep it offline forever," Cygnus said firmly. "They **have** to bring it back online eventually."

"But that could be **centuries** ," Bluestreak said, the words coming easily to him. These were things Barricade had said so many times during the arguments they'd had, and here Bluestreak was repeating them. But it was true. "We have no idea how long it will be offline. And we were so **close** to being able to apply." The warble crept back into his voice. "It was hard on all of us."

"We know how you feel," Caelum said. He gave Bluestreak a smile, then glanced at his bond mates before continuing. When Lightbraid nodded, he said, "We weren't going to tell you until we'd made the application, but... We were considering applying for another new build ourselves."

"You were?" Bluestreak's wings flicked out in surprise. His mentors weren't old by any stretch, but he never considered that they would want another mentee.

"We miss you, Bluestreak. And we loved having you around all the time. Maybe we were just looking to fill that gap in our lives." Lightbraid's smile was strangely soft. "You've been a delight to mentor."

Cygnus nodded. "We're all so proud of what you've accomplished! You've become such a fine young mech," he said with a fond smile. "So we thought..." Cygnus glanced at his trine and bobbed his sensor wings in a self-conscious shrug. "Well, we wanted to have another, with the hopes that they turn out just as well as you did."

Bluestreak felt himself flush at the praise. "Thank you!" he said, his wings fluttering slightly. "And... Would it be in the same configuration?"

Lightbraid ducked her helm, and Caelum grabbed her around the waist, bumping his shoulder into hers affectionately. "No. Light wants to be the precator this time." He smiled at her. "I think a mech configured from her base code would be stunning."

"Oh, stop it, you." After shoving Caelum gently, Lightbraid looked at Bluestreak. "So you're not alone, Blue. We are just as frustrated as Barricade is. No one wants to see the forging pools stilled for very long. They'll **have** to do something, and soon. Just hang in there, all right?"

Bluestreak pulled a vent of air and then nodded. Strange how comforting it was just knowing that even his mentors – three mechs who seemed like pillars of stability to him – were struggling with the same thing his trine was. In a sense, anyway. "I will, Ora," Bluestreak said. He flicked his wings again and forced a smile onto his face. He didn't want to end the call on a down note. "But let's talk about something else, all right?" When his mentors nodded in agreement, Bluestreak continued. "Cator, you mentioned those new glass conduit designs you were working on last month. Did you finally manage to get them into production?"

The rest of the call helped settle Bluestreak. By the time they all said their goodbyes and closed the connection, Bluestreak had almost forgotten all the anxiety he'd been dealing with for the past month.

Almost. But as soon as he was sitting in front of the darkened hologrid, it all came rushing back.

Bluestreak buried his face in his hands. He felt exhausted, but the thought of going back to his room to try to recharge for another few hours before work seemed pointless. He knew that his processor would just spin and spin until it was time to get up.

With another heave of his vents, he turned off the holo and went into the kitchen.

Bluestreak had just put his fuel in the warmer when he heard the door to their flat open and close. He looked up in time to see Barricade walk past the kitchen door. "Morning, Cade," Bluestreak called. "How was... work?" He realized he'd totally lost track of Barricade's schedule, and wasn't actually sure whether Barricade had been scheduled to work, or if he'd just been out with friends again.

"Fine," Barricade said, not pausing as he swept past the kitchen.

Just like usual.

Bluestreak's wings drooped as he turned back to the warmer, waiting for the timer to ring. He expected to hear the door to Barricade's room open and close, but instead he heard voices from the living area.

"Why are you just standing there?"

"I simply want to talk with you for a minute, Barricade."

Bluestreak's optics widened. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts about his conversation with his mentors that he hadn't realized Prowl had woken up. He could feel that his bond mate was tired, but he also felt determined. Bluestreak grabbed his fuel from the warmer and hurried out into the living area.

As if they were having a standoff, Prowl stood blocking the hallway leading to their bedrooms. Barricade put a hand on his hip and waved the other one in the air in a 'get on with it' motion. "All right, then. Talk. I'm tired and I want to recharge."

Prowl's optics were fixed on Barricade. "You were seen coming out of a bar with other known protestors," he said bluntly.

Barricade's sensor wings rose sharply. "Oh, so you have me under surveillance now? Should I be registering my comings and goings with you?"

"I'm not having you surveilled," Prowl said. He looked tired, and his exhaustion carried through the bond, but his back was straight and he held his wings out resolutely. "Those groups already know they are being watched. Interspecies Relations has been to see them several times, and they have been issued several warnings for holding illegal gatherings."

"You said it was a bar, Prowl," Barricade growled. "I go to bars with my coworkers after our shifts. I've done that for years."

"It's not your coworkers I'm concerned about. It's the other mechs that were there." Prowl's wings dipped low. "Hardhead – you've met him, he's a detective in my precinct – he let me know you were seen coming out of a bar with a known dissident two nights ago. They suspect they're looking for new recruits, and a new place to hold their meetings."

With a rev of his engine, Barricade shrugged theatrically, pulling his hands, arms and sensor wings into the motion. "Fine. You got me. I've been going to these 'banned meetings.' Shame on me." He held out his hands in front of him. "Did you want to arrest me now, officer?"

Prowl glanced at Barricade's hands, then back up at the dark mech. Somehow, he managed to look even more exhausted than he had a moment before. "I'm not going to arrest you, Barricade," he said quietly. "I'm just asking you not to go to those meetings. Don't meet with those dissidents. I know some of their names, and they are very dangerous mechs. I don't want you to get hurt."

Barricade lowered his hands and crossed his arms below his bumper. "Oh?" he said. "How would I get hurt? These 'meetings,' as you call them... Is one of them going to get raided or something?"

There was something in Barricade's tone that rang an alarm bell in Bluestreak's processor. He recognized that tone, even without the benefit of sensing Barricade's emotions over the bond. Barricade used it when he was trying to wheedle information out of someone, without making it obvious that he really wanted the answer.

Bluestreak glanced at Prowl, but the white and black mech shook his helm tiredly. "I don't know that, Barricade. I honestly don't." Bluestreak could feel that Prowl was exuding as much sincerity as he could, but there was no way of knowing how much of it Barricade was sensing through his block. "I'm just a street unit. All I know is that some of the mechs who have been seen attending those meetings are known to be dangerous. Gang members. Murderers out on parole. Some of the ones that have come here from Kaon have more arrests on their records than I can count on my fingers." Prowl's shoulders slumped slightly and his optics flickered, betraying just how tired he was. "I am just asking you.... Please. Don't go to those meetings anymore."

Barricade's sensor wings flicked angrily. "Are you telling me that as an Enforcer?" he asked.

Prowl shook his helm. "No. I'm not **telling** you anything. I'm **asking** you, as your bond mate." His wings rose slightly, but Prowl's optics remained fixed on Barricade. "I love you, Barricade, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

An unidentifiable expression flashed across Barricade's face, but then his wings drooped. His arms remained crossed, as if maintaining a wall between him and Prowl, but he seemed to deflate slightly. He returned Prowl's gaze for a moment before letting out a gust of air. "I... I love you too, Prowl," he said quietly. "But I'll be fine. Trust me."

"Trusting you isn't the issue. Just... Think about what you're doing," Prowl replied, but he stepped aside. "I know you're tired, Barricade. Recharge well."

Barricade hesitated, staring at Prowl for another beat before nodding. "Same," he said, and stalked down the hallway to his room.

As soon as they heard Barricade's door close, Prowl brought his hands up to his optics. "I'm so tired," he muttered, rubbing his face.

"I didn't wake you up with the comm from my mentors, did I?" Bluestreak asked.

"No." Prowl shook his helm. He looked at Bluestreak with dim optics and lowered his voice. "I set an alarm on the door for his passcode. I've been wanting to talk to him ever since Hardhead gave me the information about him attending those meetings."

Bluestreak glanced at the door of their flat, then back at Prowl. "So you **did** sort of have him under surveillance."

Prowl looked at Bluestreak blankly for a moment before smiling. He let out a quiet laugh. "I suppose you could put it that way," he said. Then he leaned forward to plant a kiss on Bluestreak's cheek. "I'm going back to recharge."

"I love you, Prowl," Bluestreak said.

Prowl hesitated at the door to his room, and smiled. Over the bond, Bluestreak could feel the Enforcer's bright affection shining. "I love you, too, Blue."

As soon as Prowl's bedroom door closed, Bluestreak stared down the darkened hallway. The light under Prowl's door shut off immediately. But the light under Barricade's door was still on.

Bluestreak took another sip of fuel as he heard Lightbraid's words echo in his processor. _Just talk to him._

He gulped down the rest of his fuel as if it would provide him with strength, and set the cube on the table. Then, before he could reconsider, he walked down to hallway to Barricade's door.

He knocked twice on the door, quietly so as not to disturb Prowl. When there was no answer on the other side of the door, Bluestreak tapped the door again. "Cade? It's me."

There was a noise on the other side of the door, and Bluestreak saw the light under the door briefly blocked by a shadow. "What do you want?" Barricade's voice floated through the door. He sounded tired.

"I just want to talk," Bluestreak said.

"About what?"

"Anything." Bluestreak leaned his helm crest against the surface of the door. "Just... **anything**. I miss you, Cade. I miss talking to you."

There was silence for almost a full minute. Then Bluestreak heard the door unlatch, and he stood up as the door swung open.

After a long look at Bluestreak, Barricade stepped away from the door and walked across to his berth. He flopped on it, leaning against the headboard and draping his long legs across the scattered berth coverings. "Come on in then," he said, gesturing to the end of the berth.

Bluestreak took a step, then another into Barricade's room before closing the door behind him. Barricade's room was a mess. It had a musty smell, probably because Barricade had kept the door closed for the past month. Stacks of cubes and platters (the ones that he'd noticed were missing from the kitchen, Bluestreak realized) were scattered on every flat surface. The berth was covered in data pads; some of them were displaying text and drawings. When Barricade noticed Bluestreak's glance he kicked the berth coverings over those pads.

Barricade vented quietly. "I know it's a bit of a disaster," he said. "I've been a little busy. I'll try to get it cleaned up a bit this week." He pointed at the space he'd just cleared on his berth. "Go on. Have a seat."

Bluestreak settled on the berth next to Barricade's legs. To be perfectly honest, he hadn't thought beyond getting into Barricade's room and seeing if he would talk. It had been over a month since they'd had anything approaching a 'normal' conversation, and Bluestreak suddenly found himself at a loss for what to say.

Bluestreak lowered his hand to gently rest on Barricade's ankle joint, and he heard the slight intake of air from Barricade's vents at the touch.

He looked at Barricade, taking in his golden face and the thick chinstrap of his helm. His gaze lingered on Barricade's crimson optics, and noted again how they contrasted with his purple chevron. When their optics met, Bluestreak saw a flash of need in them, at the same time that he felt the wall between them fall just slightly.

Barricade **ached**. Not physically, although he was tired. Instead, over the bond Bluestreak caught wafts of frustration. Fear. Anger. But more than anything else, he felt a deep sense of loneliness. And although Bluestreak's hand was the only thing touching Barricade, he could feel Barricade soaking in that contact.

"Cade, I..." Bluestreak's vocalizer faltered before he sent it more power. "We do miss you. Prowl and I. We both miss you a lot." Bluestreak looked down at his hand where it rested on Barricade's ankle. "I don't know what's happening with you. With us." He rubbed his hand up Barricade's leg a few centimeters, and he heard the pitch of Barricade's engine change. "I want to fix it, but I don't know how." He focused on Barricade's plating under his hand: how it was warm, how the edges of his shin plate were scuffed, how the treads on his tire looked worn. He wondered when Barricade had last been into a body shop for maintenance. "I just don't want you to slip away from us."

"That's what I'm trying to do, Blue," Barricade said. "Fix things." He shook his helm slightly. "Everything I'm doing... Everything I've done, everything I'm going to do... I'm doing it for you, and for Prowl." Barricade moved his leg slightly so that it nudged up against Bluestreak's thigh. When Bluestreak looked up at him, Barricade was staring down at his pede blankly. "I'm doing it for our trine. For our future," Barricade said. He blinked, then looked up at Bluestreak. "Me and my friends... We're going to do what we can to set things right again."

Bluestreak frowned. "All we want is for you to be safe. That's what Prowl's worried about," he said. When Barricade rolled his optics and crossed his arms, Bluestreak grabbed at Barricade's leg firmly. "He's worried about you. **I'm** worried about you! The things he's explained, the things they talk about on the news... It makes me so scared!" When Barricade finally looked at him, Bluestreak leaned forward and tipped his sensor wings upwards in urgency. "Bomb threats in Kaon because of the curfew there. Mobs of armed mechs in Tarn. An anti-organic government got a majority in Vos. Lago Dome got tagged with anti-organic graffiti last week. Prowl said the Towers District was in lockdown two nights ago because of some kind of threat. That one didn't even make it onto the news!" Bluestreak shook his helm. "All of it frightens me, thinking where this could lead. Blaming organics or the elites for where everything is at isn't going to fix things. Neither is any sort of violence." He rubbed Barricade's shin again, feeling the imperfections in the plating under his fingers. "Prowl is worried about you because he knows where all of these things are coming from. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine," Barricade growled. There was a burst of frustration over the bond again. "I'll be **fine**! I'm just worried about our future!" He pulled his legs up, sliding his pedes out of Bluestreak's reach, and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I would do anything to get Vector Sigma back online. It's the only way to secure a future for us."

"Cade..." Bluestreak's voice crackled, and he slid closer to Barricade on the berth. The dark mech didn't move away, so he put his hand on Barricade's pede. "We don't want to have a future without **you**! We want Vector Sigma back online as much as you do, but if something happens to you, where would we be?"

Barricade held Bluestreak's gaze for a moment before lowering his face, burying it in his arms. The frustration that had been seeping through the bond melted away and became grief. "I wish I could go back in time a year," Barricade said, his voice shot through with static. "I wish I could go back, before all of this happened, when we were so happy about getting a new build of our own." He shook his helm, his chevron scraping across the plating of his arms, and his hands tightened on his elbows. "I wish I could start this whole year over."

Before he even knew he was moving, Bluestreak found himself sitting beside Barricade, wrapping his arms around his bond mate. "Oh, I know, Cade," Bluestreak murmured into Barricade's audial. "I know. Prowl knows, too. I wish none of this had ever happened, too. The past year has just been awful." Bluestreak's processor supplied him with the memory of the three of them rejoicing over the knowledge that they were **so close** to being able to apply for a mentee. Now, that night felt like another lifetime ago. "We both love you, so much. We want you to be happy."

Barricade leaned into Bluestreak, his ventilations coming rough and harsh. He didn't lift his helm, but Bluestreak knew he was crying. "I want us all to be happy, too," Barricade said. "I just want everything to go back to how it was. But now..." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to do."

Bluestreak held Barricade tightly. "All you can do is live in the present," he murmured, not sure if that was the right thing to say or not. "The rest of it we can figure out later." Then another thought occurred to him. "Oh, and call your mentors." Bluestreak kissed Barricade's helm. "They're worried about you, too."

"My mentors?" Barricade asked, finally lifting his helm and looking at Bluestreak. Coolant streaks decorated his golden face.

Bluestreak nodded and gently wiped away Barricade's tears. "They called last week," he said. "But you weren't home."

Barricade's vents heaved again and he nodded. "All right," he said. He smiled slightly. "I'll give them a call tonight." He leaned his helm against Bluestreak's. "And I'll try not to worry you two, either."

The wall was still there, between him and Barricade, but it wasn't quite as thick as it was before. At this point, Bluestreak would take whatever he could get. "Thanks, Cade," he murmured.


	19. The Reaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to where we came in: on that perfect morning, when Barricade woke Bluestreak in his most favourite way, when all three of them were blissfully together again... We come back in on the day that everything fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music for this chapter: [_Karasu_ by Berlinist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijG-D_MGfBE), from the Gris soundtrack.

After that night, things improved.

Well, they got a bit better, anyway... At least compared to what they'd been like before. Things weren't perfect, but they were **better**.

Bluestreak decided to call that a win.

After Prowl and Bluestreak confronted Barricade, he started acting more like the mech that Bluestreak had gotten to know in university. He no longer went into incoherent rages at the mere mention of Sentinel Prime or the Senate. He joined Bluestreak on the couch on evenings when he was home, rather than immediately retreating into his room and closing the door. And finally, **finally** , the wall in his spark that he'd erected to keep out Bluestreak and Prowl thinned. He even let it fall completely on occasion, when they were laughing about something on the holo, or when he finally came to seek out Bluestreak in his berth.

When that wall came down, the Barricade that Bluestreak sensed felt older. He seemed more battered and more cynical. But he still had that thread of mischief running through him, alongside the familiar sense of protectiveness and determination. And the grin that occasionally lit up his face was the same grin that Bluestreak remembered from that first night in the bar when they'd met.

Barricade also made a point to comm his mentors, apologizing to them for not being around. Just the act of having spoken with his mentors seemed to put Barricade in a good mood, and Bluestreak started reminding Barricade to comm them on a regular basis. Barricade's sense of humour and cheer almost went back to normal for a few days after speaking with them, and Bluestreak was happy to make sure those calls were placed often.

But Barricade still spent many evenings out, without letting his trinemates know where he'd gone. On those evenings, the block on the bond was as firm and solid as it had ever been.

Prowl, who was nearly run off his wheels with the number of hours he'd been working, confided in Bluestreak that he knew Barricade was hiding something. "But I don't know what he's up to," Prowl said one morning while Bluestreak was getting ready for work and Prowl was just arriving home after a night shift. Prowl cast a glance down the hallway towards Barricade's closed bedroom door; the dark mech hadn't come home the previous night and had merely sent an 'everything's fine, don't worry about me' message to his trinemates. "I wish he trusted us enough to let us in on where he's spending his time."

But Bluestreak and Prowl had realized that the key to peace in their flat was not prying into Barricade's affairs. With that in mind, life slowly fell into a state that Bluestreak thought of as the 'new normal.'

So, this brings us back to where we came in: on a perfectly wonderful morning, with light streaming in through the bedroom window and with Bluestreak and Barricade and Prowl cuddled together in a blissful state of post-overload relaxation. We came in on the morning in which Bluestreak was utterly certain that he was one of the luckiest mechs alive to be trined to these two amazing Praxians, and was completely thrilled to have all three of them together again, feeling them both so happy after so much strife.

We come back in on the day that everything fell apart.

The three of them lay there, tangled together in a sated, drowsy heap, for almost an hour before Barricade sighed. He patted Prowl's leg where it was slung over his hips. "I hate to say this, but I've got to get up. I need to leave for work soon." As Prowl moved his leg, Barricade's hand lingered on Bluestreak's bumper for another moment before hauling himself out of the berth with a groan.

Prowl frowned. "I thought you said you had today off?" he asked groggily.

"I did. But I traded a shift with Runabout," Barricade said easily. He shrugged. "He had something to do today, I guess." He stopped on his way out of the bedroom and waved a hand. "I just agreed to it yesterday, which is why you didn't know." Then he vanished into the hallway.

Bluestreak glanced at Prowl, aware of the thread of suspicion that had crept into the bond. "What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked. "He trades shifts all the time."

They heard the wash rack start up, but Prowl lowered his voice anyway. "I know, but I thought I felt something when he said..." Then Prowl shook his helm. "Maybe it's nothing." He rubbed his face. "Maybe I'm just tired and seeing things that aren't there."

"You **have** been working a lot of hours," Bluestreak said, but he focused on the portion of the trine bond that was Barricade. From it, he sensed nothing but the contentment the dark mech usually felt after a good overload. Bluestreak leaned across the berth and kissed Prowl, letting his lips linger on Prowl's before lifting them away. "Why don't you get some recharge? I'm off work too, but I'll keep the noise down so you can rest."

"I need to refuel first. And my schedule is switching to days starting tomorrow, so I should only get a short amount of recharge to reset my cycle." Prowl glanced down at the paint transfers and sticky residue on his legs, and he snorted. "And a shower, after Barricade's done in there."

Bluestreak laughed. "Well, I'll get some fuel warmed up for everyone, and you can have the rack after Cade. I've got nothing in particular planned for today."

By the time Barricade was done with his shower and finished touching up his paint for work, Bluestreak had measured out three portions of fuel and was just pulling them out of the warmer. Barricade came into the kitchen and grabbed his cube of fuel, throwing it back with a grimace. "We're back down to the cheap recycled stuff, huh?" he asked, wrinkling his nasal ridge in distaste. "That pack of the refined fuel was nice while it lasted."

Bluestreak shrugged. "Yeah," he said, sipping at his own. He added another pinch of copper flakes to it in a fruitless attempt to mask the taste. "I heard the energon extraction plant in Ibex isn't online yet. Once it is, fuel costs should go down a bit. Maybe we can actually treat ourselves to some of the refined fuel again."

Barricade set his empty cube back down on the counter. "Someday, we won't have to make do with this sort of sludge," he said. "We'll have the good stuff, all the time." He smiled at Bluestreak. "Hopefully it'll be someday soon."

"That would be nice," Bluestreak said. He rinsed out his cube, then Barricade's. "But I think I'd prefer they figure out a way to bring Vector Sigma back online first." Then he glanced at Barricade, shocked at himself for having brought the topic up.

"Yeah," Barricade said quietly. "Maybe that'll happen soon, too." But instead of the familiar wave of anger whenever the topic of Vector Sigma or new builds was brought up, Bluestreak only felt that surge of determination. Barricade shrugged slightly and turned to smile at Prowl, who had just come into the kitchen. "Anyway, it's time for me to go," he said. Barricade swept Bluestreak into an embrace, kissing him deeply. "I love you," Barricade said, resting his chevron against Bluestreak's.

Laughing, Bluestreak said, "I love you, too!" He laughed through the second kiss Barricade gave him. "You're in an awfully good mood for someone who's just going to work."

"Can't I give a loving goodbye to the two mechs who mean the most to me in the whole galaxy?" Barricade turned and pulled Prowl against him, giving the Enforcer a deep kiss as well.

Prowl squeaked but melted into the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup Barricade's face. When Barricade pulled away, Prowl kept his hands on Barricade's cheeks. He peered into Barricade's optics. "Are you sure everything's all right?" Prowl asked.

"I love you, too, Prowl," Barricade said. He kissed Prowl again, this time in on his nasal ridge. "And yes, everything is just fine." He spun and opened the door of their flat. He paused in the doorway, looking between Bluestreak and Prowl for a moment before smiling. "I love you both."

"We love you too, Barricade," Prowl said. "Have a good day at work." He watched as Barricade pulled the door shut behind him.

Bluestreak looked at Prowl. "What's wrong?" he asked. He could sense that Prowl had narrowed his side of the bond, but behind it his spark was a turbulent roil of emotions.

Shaking his helm, Prowl said, "I don't know. I just can't shake the feeling that Barricade's hiding something from us." He frowned. "Something big."

Bluestreak chewed on his lower lip. "What could it be?" Bluestreak asked, then dropped his voice lower. "You don't think it's another bombing do you? Would Cade even be mixed up in something like that?" Then he shook his helm. "No. I haven't heard anything in the news about new protests or anything, and you said you were given some time to rest because nothing was going on. I know how upset he was, but I'm sure Cade wouldn't be mixed up in anything **really** bad." He frowned, his sensor wings flicking behind him as he rinsed out Prowl's empty fuel cube. "I mean, I'm pretty sure. We would know. We would both know." He looked up at Prowl, uncertainty suddenly swirling in his spark. "Wouldn't we?"

"Probably." Prowl rubbed at his optics again. "I really am low on energy. I'm going to take that nap I mentioned. Please wake me if I'm not up by early afternoon." He kissed Bluestreak and grabbed his cube from the counter. "Maybe everything will look better once I've had some rest."

"That's a good idea," Bluestreak said, and watched as Prowl made his way back to the bedroom.

Bluestreak busied himself with quiet activities in the morning: portioning out fuel for them all for the evening, dusting their shelves, sweeping the floor of the living area, and sitting on the balcony reading.

Bluestreak did feel bad for Barricade, and not a small amount of guilt. If Bluestreak hadn't insisted on getting a trine before they applied to Vector Sigma, they could have had a mentee right now. Sure, it would have been a serious struggle reaching the minimum support threshold they needed to be eligible, but Bluestreak was sure they could have managed. And maybe, if they already had a mentee, Barricade would not have been so upset about the austerity measures that were being imposed on everyone.

Then again, they wouldn't have met Prowl. And Barricade agreed with Bluestreak that Prowl was the piece of their lives that had been missing for all those years. Prowl was the piece they didn't know they'd been missing until they found him.

But Bluestreak knew that Barricade still yearned for the other piece that he'd always wanted: a new build to care for.

Bluestreak stared out at Iacon, watching the flow of air traffic between the buildings, and hearing the roar and rumble of engines all around him. In the distance, behind the residential tower beside theirs, he could just see the edge of Lago dome. Beyond that was Sana Dome, which was in the process of being repaired. He knew it took a lot of energon to keep the domes heated and to run the atmospheric controls. But Cybertron was the organics' home, too, and they were also suffering from the shortages.

Surely there had to be a solution that would fit everyone.

Just after mid-day he heard Prowl get up, and Bluestreak came back inside. He leaned against the doorway of the balcony and watched as Prowl turned on the entertainment unit and tuned in the news. "Do you feel better?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yes, I do. Thank you." Prowl smiled at him and sat on the couch. "I think I've just been so focused on work that I've been seeing dissidents everywhere... Even in my own bond mate."

"Well, it's not like he didn't give you cause to think it," Bluestreak said. He came inside and set his data pad on the table. "But things have been getting better, at least a little bit. I know he's angry, but he seems to have found a better way to focus his energy. And maybe we can give him another way." Bluestreak smiled. "What do you think about getting a pet?"

"A pet?" Prowl looked up at Bluestreak in confusion. "What kind of pet? And why?"

"The other day, I saw one of those flying things the Akkiel brought with them. Apparently they're selling them as pets. You know, the green ones with the beaks?" Bluestreak gestured over his own helm as if tracing out a long snout and a crest.

"Ah, yes. The scalewings." Prowl looked back at the entertainment unit. "And why would we want one of those?"

"For Barricade to take care of. I mean, we could **all** take care of it," Bluestreak said. "Maybe he just needs something small to love and nurture."

Prowl shook his helm, but didn't look up from the screen of the entertainment unit. "A pet is not going to replace a mentee, Blue," Prowl said flatly. His sensor wings flicked once, then a second time, and Bluestreak felt a streak of tension coming from him.

"It's not supposed to! I just thought it would be nice." Bluestreak frowned at Prowl. "I mean, if you don't think it's a good idea we don't have to do it, of course, but I was just thinking that... Prowl?"

Prowl had leaned forward, his arms on his knees, staring intently at the screen. His sensor wings were flared out behind him, and the tension in the bond had grown to a full-blown anxiety.

"Prowl?" Bluestreak glanced at the screen. On it, there was a chaos of activity, and the ticker on the bottom said something about a 'lockdown at the Decagon.' "Prowl, what is it?"

"I don't know," Prowl replied, and stood up as he turned up the volume on the unit. "Something is happening at the Senate."

When Prowl turned up the volume, the sound cut in mid-sentence as the announcer was speaking. "-a situation taking place at the Decagon. We are receiving reports of a large number of mechs forcing their way into the Senate chambers. Witnesses at the scene stated that many of the mechs were armed, and the Primal Defense Forces have been called in."

The video displayed the front steps of the Senate's building next to the Decagon, and there were mechs and organics running everywhere. Most were running out of the building, fear on their faces. People were shouting, and mechs wearing military insignia pointed urgently to other armed mechs, yelling orders.

"Cade?" Bluestreak whispered, coming to stand beside Prowl. "Where's Cade?"

"I just tried comming him," Prowl replied. He turned to look at Bluestreak, his optics cold and bright. Apprehension crawled through the bond. "His comm line's been disconnected."

"What?!" Even though he could feel that Prowl was speaking the truth, Bluestreak tried Barricade's comm himself. The frequency that for so long had connected him to his lover, his partner, his best friend, his bond mate... Now that frequency only returned an error message.

_Frequency not listed. Try another number?_

Dread filled Bluestreak's spark, and he immediately reached out across the bond to Barricade. But Barricade had the bond blocked like he often did when he was at work. He could sense that Barricade was online, but anything other than that was completely hidden from him.

Bluestreak prodded frantically at the bond, but got no response.

Suddenly the screen switched back to the news anchor. He stared at the camera, his frame tense. "We are just now hearing that the mechs who have stormed the Senate chambers have commandeered the chamber's internal broadcasting equipment. They are requesting to send a message, and – yes, we are going to show you that message now."

The screen switched, and there was a sudden dizzying spin before the camera stilled again. In the background of the shot was the inside of the Senate chambers, with mechs everywhere. Many of them were armed, and were pointing guns down at other mechs who were on the floor. Then a Vosian stepped into the frame, dragging a mech with him. The Vosian was a seeker, with broad wings and a dark face. His grey paint was trimmed in a striking blue and red. He looked vaguely familiar; Bluestreak thought he'd seen his face on the news before. The mech he was dragging next to him also looked familiar, and Bluestreak suddenly realized it was Senator Decimus.

A flat, inflectionless voice from an unseen mech said, "Signal is live. Begin message."

The Vosian smiled at the camera, and when he spoke, his voice sounded like shards of glass scraping across concrete. "Greetings, fellow Cybertronians. I bring you a message from the Champion of Tarn, Megatron, and from the group of like-minded mechs called Cybertron First." His wide wings fluttered behind him, almost appearing as though he was preening for the camera. "For too long, the corrupt mechs in the Senate have put their own priorities over the good of Cybertron. They fuel themselves first with the best and most high-quality energon. They live in the most luxurious accommodations, above the mechs who struggle day by day. They throw lavish parties for their elite friends, while the mechs of Cybertron struggle to even keep themselves online. They think of themselves first, and the common mechs second. And meanwhile, they take great pains to help our planet's uninvited guests, providing them with places to live and places to breed, while your cries for help go unheeded."

Lifting his wings and smiling broadly, the Vosian continued. "Sentinel Prime called us deceivers, so we claim that title: we are Decepticons. We will fight for Cybertron first. We fight for our planet and for our lives. With Megatron leading us, the Decepticons will revoke the limitations placed on Cybertronians by the Senate, and we will ensure that Cybertronians are served first, as the rightful inhabitants of this planet."

Beside Bluestreak, Prowl suddenly straightened up and put a hand to his audial. "Prowl here," he said, and turned away from the screen. "Yes, sir, I'm watching it now."

Bluestreak's optics were fixed on the screen, barely even registering Prowl's conversation with his lieutenant or the rest of the Vosian's blathering. He banged on the block that Barricade had erected between them, but it remained solid. Barricade didn't even lift it enough to send Bluestreak a reassuring touch.

"Cade," Bluestreak whispered. He wished the seeker would move to the side so that Bluestreak could see if Barricade was one of the mechs being held at gunpoint. "Where are you?"

On the screen, the Vosian shoved Senator Decimus to his knees. "Senator, will you swear to uphold your oath to protect Cybertron from all invaders? Will you swear to rescind the hardships the Senate has placed on ordinary Cybertronians? Will you swear–"

"I will swear nothing to a terrorist group such as yours," Decimus snarled.

The Vosian's mouth curled up into an ugly smile. "Then, on behalf of Megatron and the Decepticons, I accept your resignation," the Vosian said, and levelled his weapon at Decimus's helm.

The Senator's optics went pale. "No. No, **wait**! Wait, I-"

There was a whine, followed by the sharp retort of a blaster bolt. Decimus's helm vaporized in a spray of energon, and his headless body slumped lifelessly to the floor.

The Vosian smiled at the camera once more. "Sentinel Prime, it is unfortunate you are not attending the session today. But we have a message for you. Surrender, and we can make a deal. Refuse, and your life will be forfeit." Then the Vosian looked around, and called, "Kill them all."

The camera panned around. The video on the entertainment unit showed mechs with guns and lurid purple emblems on their chests and shoulders slaughtering mechs left and right. The sounds coming through the speakers were blaster shots and screams.

Bluestreak felt a chill run through his lines.

Prowl took Bluestreak's arm. "Blue, I have to go back to work. They're calling up every Enforcer in the city and-"

"Prowl!" His optics still fixed on the screen, Bluestreak grabbed at Prowl and pointed. "Look!" As soon as Prowl turned his helm to look, Bluestreak felt the spike of shock from Prowl, mirroring his own.

A dark-coloured Praxian with a golden face shoved a mech to the ground in an easy movement. Bluestreak thought he recognized the motion from one of the self-defense moves that Barricade had showed him. The Praxian put a pede in the middle of the mech's back, pressed his weapon against the mech's helm...

And fired.

Barricade lifted his helm and looked at the camera for a moment, his face an expressionless mask. His gorgeous scarlet optics flicked past the camera, then he turned and stalked into the chaos of the Senate chambers.

"Barricade," Bluestreak whispered, his optics wide. "What are you **doing**?"


	20. Nadir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak gets one more chance to get through to his trine mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music for this chapter: [_Karasu_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijG-D_MGfBE) and [_Symmetry_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJPJYcudHGM) by Berlinist, from the Gris soundtrack.

The rest of the day passed in a confused blur.

Prowl left for work, rushing out the door as soon as he'd finished the call with his unit leader. But just before he left the flat, he pulled Bluestreak against him in a tight hug. "Bluestreak, promise me you'll stay here," he said.

"I will," Bluestreak said. He tried to focus on Prowl's face, but he kept glancing towards the balcony door. "But Cade is still out there, and you saw what he did, and what if-"

Prowl gripped Bluestreak's chin guard, forcing Bluestreak to look at him. "Blue, listen to me," Prowl said urgently. " **Stay here.** My lieutenant said that they're going to be setting a curfew for later tonight, but it would be best if you just stayed inside today. If Barricade comms you, see if you can get him to surrender to the nearest precinct. Everyone will have seen the broadcast, and they're going to be looking for the mechs who are involved. That's probably why he disconnected his comm frequency, so he couldn't be tracked with it." Prowl's optics flashed all over Bluestreak's face as if trying to memorize it. "And if he comes home, comm me right away. See if you can get him to stay." Prowl's sensor wings quivered. "You've always been better at talking sense into him than I have been."

Bluestreak was shaking his helm, still trying to process what he'd seen on the news and what Prowl was telling him. "Maybe he didn't do this by choice. Maybe he got forced into this. Maybe he didn't want to... didn't want to shoot that mech." Bluestreak's tanks lurched as his words summoned up the memory of Barricade discharging his weapon into the defenseless mech underneath him. "I can't believe that he's with those-"

"I have to go, Blue," Prowl said, his voice strained. Sorrow and anger and fear rippled through the bond, even though Prowl had narrowed the connection. "I have to go now. I can't wait any longer. But you need to know that if they've identified Barricade, someone might be by to talk to you. And they'll want to talk to me, too, but..." Prowl's voice crackled. "Look, just comm me immediately if someone comes here." He swept Bluestreak into a hug. "I wish I could stay here with you, but I have to go."

"I know," Bluestreak said. He clung to Prowl for a moment longer before pressing his lips against Prowl's in a desperate kiss. "Please, Prowl... Please be safe."

Prowl nodded. "I'll do my best."

And then he was gone.

To distract himself from the empty flat, Bluestreak commed Urzul. She had also seen the footage, and he heard her buzzing distractedly through the comm line. "Friend Bluestreak, I am sorry," she said. "Great shock? Much sadness. Some anger?"

"That pretty much covers it," Bluestreak said, looking out the balcony window at the city. The sky was clear. It would have been a gorgeous day if not for...

Bluestreak shook his helm and focused his attention back on what Urzul was saying.

"Office closing today. Curfew will be in place. Employees, told to stay home. Bluestreak, take as much time as needed." Urzul buzzed again, a sound that Bluestreak had come to associate with indecision or nervousness. "Bluestreak, return to work when able, yes? Keep me advised."

"Thank you, Urzul," Bluestreak said, clicking the words in A'ovan. Playing the foreign sounds was easier than trying to speak through the static his spark kept wanting to pepper his vocalizer with. "The idols favoured me when I met your mother."

Urzul trilled once, then closed the line.

After that, Bluestreak found he had nothing else to do except watch the news. He sat on the couch for most of the day, watching the coverage unfold. After slaughtering most of the Senators in the Decagon, the mechs responsible had all fled, vanishing into the city. The attack had been swift, decisive, and bloody. Analysts were brought in to discuss the demands of the dissident group – now officially being called the Decepticons – and how likely they were to be met.

Sentinel Prime made a statement from a secured location, surrounded by the remaining senators and other government officials who were not attending the Senate session today. The Prime firmly rebuked the dissidents as little more than 'reckless thugs', and promised that they would be brought to justice for the murders they had committed that day. Plus, now that the government had been decimated by the attack, Sentinel announced that the three main parties of the Senate were merging into one party, called the Autobots, that that would work together with a single-minded purpose: to bring the Decepticons to justice and prevent more attacks.

After Sentinel Prime's statement, they replayed the video of the attack over and over.

The mech who gave the speech in the Senate was one of the new councilors in Vos named Starscream, a mech who was known to sympathize with Cybertron First. Bluestreak realized that was where he'd seen the mech's face before. Another angle of the assassination of Senator Decimus, taken by the security cameras inside the Senate chambers, identified the mech who took the original video as a member of Cybertron First named Soundwave. They said that the video was already being analyzed by the Primal Defense Forces and Iacon Enforcers, and the rest of the mechs responsible would be identified shortly. According to the early reports from survivors, the Senatorial Guard not only allowed the attackers in, but played a key role in the attack. It seemed like most of the Guard sided with the Decepticons.

The news stations started calling it an attempted coup.

Restlessly, Bluestreak got up from the couch and paced around the flat. He paused in the doorway to Barricade's room, looking at the commendations from the Senatorial Guard he had hanging on the wall. Barricade's berth was neatly made, with no sign of the datapads that had been scattered across it a month before.

Bluestreak wondered what he would have seen on those datapads if he'd picked one up to read it when he had the chance.

In the late afternoon, the flat's comm line buzzed with a call from Barricade's mentors. Bluestreak almost picked up the call, briefly wondering whether Barricade had contacted them. Maybe they were calling to let Bluestreak and Prowl know where Barricade was.

But Bluestreak's hand hesitated over the accept button. Praxus would just now be waking up, coming out of recharge to see the news of what was happening in Iacon. It was more likely that Barricade's mentors had seen the images of Barricade on the holo, or that they'd tried Barricade's personal comm frequency and found it disconnected. They were probably just comming to see if Bluestreak or Prowl had any information for them.

Slag. What would he **say** to them?

Bluestreak's hand fell away from the controls, and he let the call bounce to messages. An hour later, he did the same with the calls from his mentors, and from Prowl's. He knew he wouldn't know what to say to any of them, and he wasn't sure he would even be able to listen to what they had to say.

The only mechs he really wanted to talk to right now was Barricade or Prowl.

Bluestreak's pacing kept bringing him back to the living area, where the entertainment unit was still on. Over and over, Bluestreak watched Barricade throw the mech to the ground and murder him in cold blood. Over and over, Bluestreak watched Barricade stand up and face the camera, the purple insignia of the Decepticons emblazoned on his chest. Over and over, Bluestreak watched Barricade vanish into the melee behind him.

The bond was thoroughly blocked. Barricade was still alive, that much was clear, but beyond that Bluestreak got nothing from him. He flooded his side of the bond with his confusion and his fear, hoping that some of it might get through to Barricade.

Prowl usually kept the bond mostly blocked when he was at work, but that afternoon he left it open as much as he could. Bluestreak clung to Prowl's presence like an anchor in his sea of emotions, letting it keep him afloat as he watched the news through the afternoon and into the early evening. Prowl oscillated between intense focus, to grief, to anger, and back to determination.

Bluestreak wished that he had some way to distract himself. But all he did was pace and sit and watch the news, and stare at the footage of the assassinations as they played over and over.

The door to the balcony was still open from when he'd been out there in the morning. Had it really only been that morning that he had been quietly reading, waiting for Prowl to wake up? It felt like eons ago. A gentle evening breeze wafted in through the door, bringing with it the sounds of the city: the sounds of traffic as mechs rushed home to beat the curfew that had been mandated; voices carried on the wind, from neighbouring buildings and from the streets below; the roar of thrusters from the airframes that zoomed around the building in the skyways.

Bluestreak didn't pay much attention when he heard the low rumble of thrusters outside of the balcony door. One of the neighbours a few floors up was an airframe, and often came and went from his own balcony.

An alert pinged at Bluestreak from their building security, notifying him of 'unauthorized balcony access.' At the same time, Bluestreak heard a familiar, deep voice that made his spark leap.

"Blue?"

Bluestreak's helm whipped around from where he'd been staring at the news, and saw Barricade standing in the door leading out to the balcony.

_Barricade!_

Jumping to his pedes, Bluestreak ran and threw himself at his bond mate. He felt real. He smelled real. His arms went around him like the real Barricade's arms always did when Bluestreak hugged him suddenly, and Bluestreak felt something inside of him untwist.

Cade was home.

"Cade! What's going on? Where have you been? What did you... Why did you...?" Bluestreak sent an 'all clear' response to their building security as he tried to organize his thoughts. But despite his efforts, all of the thoughts that had been swirling in his processor all afternoon came pouring out of him at once. "We saw you. You were on the news. You were with those mechs who attacked the Senate and we saw what you... I saw you..." Bluestreak's voice dissolved into static as his vocalizer refused to complete the sentence.

On the entertainment unit, the footage of Starscream's speech started playing again.

"Is Prowl here?" Barricade said. His voice sounded strangely quiet as he looked around the flat. He glanced at the news, then shied away. Standing this close to Barricade, chest to chest, Bluestreak could feel some emotions from Barricade, even through the block he still had up: determination, resolve. Sadness. A touch of fear.

Bluestreak shook his helm. "No. He got called into work because..." Bluestreak gestured wordlessly out the balcony door at the darkened city. "You know. The curfew." He looked at Barricade again. "Cade, **please** tell me what's going on."

Barricade's door wings were low on his back. "You **know** what's going on," Barricade said. "The Senate is making us second-class citizens on our own planet. We have to take back what is ours." His hands tightened into fists. "We have to show them that Cybertronians need to come first."

Bluestreak shook his helm. "Cade..." He reset his vocalizer as he felt the old arguments queueing in his processor. This was not the time. " **We** need to come first. Us. You and me and Prowl."

"I **am** putting us first," Barricade said, resting a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "The Decepticons will put everything right again, for all of us." He flashed a quick grin, but it was a ghost of his usual one. "Megatron promised that. We're going to depose the current regime, and we're going to put a fair one in its place. One that speaks for all of us. One that won't pander to the elites or give in to the demands of organics." He glanced around the flat, then walked to the shelves and pulled down two of his data pads from his intelligence courses. "I need to grab a few things." He vanished into the hallway.

"Cade!" Bluestreak quickly pinged Prowl with a short message that Barricade was there. Prowl sent back an acknowledgement, and added: _Keep him there if you can._

Bluestreak followed Barricade into his bedroom, and found him sifting through things in his closet. "Cade, Prowl said that you should turn yourself in, you know, to the Enforcers. I think it's the right thing to do. You could give them info to help the investigation, and... And maybe you won't spend as long in jail if you do that, you know, if you help them find the others who did all of that, and-" Bluestreak's voice caught again, trying to picture how long Barricade might spend in prison for what Bluestreak had witnessed him do.

Barricade pulled out his crystal dagger set and shoved it into his subspace before turning to grab the toy tankformer from its shelf. "I'm not turning myself in, Blue," he said sharply. As Barricade pushed past him, Bluestreak caught another draft of resolve and anger from his bond mate.

"Cade, what are you doing?" Bluestreak hurried back out to the living area to find Barricade grabbing a photo of the three of them, taken up on the highpark. Barricade stared at it for a moment before stuffing it into his subspace. "You're leaving again, aren't you?" Bluestreak asked helplessly.

Barricade finally stopped, walking the few steps back to Bluestreak. He touched the side of Bluestreak's helm gently. "I can't stay, Blue," he said quietly. "I have to go."

" **Why?** " Bluestreak asked, his sensor wings flaring out in distress. He grabbed at Barricade's hands as if he could hold him there forever. He knew he needed to find some way to make Barricade stay, long enough for Prowl to get home, but he also knew that Barricade had a stubborn streak a kilometer wide. "Stay here. Please! Prowl will find some way to... To make it right." He pulled a shuddering vent. "The **real** kind of right, not... Not whatever kind of right you think you're putting in place."

Barricade shook his helm. "No," he said. "I have more to do." Barricade touched the purple insignia on his chest. In the light of their flat, it might have been a smear of someone's spilled energon on his plating. " **We** have more to do, before Cybertron is truly free of the shackles the Senate and the Prime has been placing on it." He rested his hands on Bluestreak's shoulders. "I just want you and Prowl to know that I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for all three of us."

Bluestreak stared at Barricade open-mouthed for a moment before replying. "For **us**?" he repeated, shaking his helm. "No. No! I would **never** ask you to... I would never ask you to do **that** for us. Not ever." It felt like something was caught in his throat.

"I know how much you hate violence, Blue," Barricade said quietly. He brushed another finger down the side of Bluestreak's helm, and smiled sadly. "You never did like going to the fights. But when you're fighting for your freedom, sometimes violence is necessary."

"You **killed** someone, Cade," Bluestreak said. His optics flicked around Barricade's face, and his sensor wings quivered behind him. "How **could** you?"

Suddenly a strange voice came from the balcony. "Time to go," it said sharply. Bluestreak looked up and saw a grey and white Vosian with a conical helm standing in the doorway.

"Blue, listen to me." Barricade shook Bluestreak's shoulders gently. "Keep yourself safe. Keep Prowl safe. There's going to be... Stay away from the fighting, as much as you can. I'll be back for you when we've set Cybertron free. I **promise**." Barricade pressed the toy tankformer into Bluestreak's hand, closing his fingers around it. "Hang onto this for me. I'll be back for it, and for you."

Bluestreak shook his helm slowly, disbelief and confusion still swirling through his spark. He felt a prod from Prowl, but he couldn't muster the control to send anything back to him. "Stay here, Cade," Bluestreak pleaded. He glanced down at the toy in his hand, then back up at Barricade. "Please... More than anything else, we just want **you**."

Barricade hesitated. He stared at Bluestreak hard, as if trying to memorize his features, and now Bluestreak could feel the sorrow from his bond mate. Then Barricade leaned close to him. "I love you. I will always love you. You and Prowl both," Barricade whispered. He pressed his lips against Bluestreak's in a crushing and hurried kiss. "I love you both so much."

"I said we have to go. **Now!** " exclaimed the Vosian on the balcony. He'd stepped back into the shadows, but Bluestreak could see his red optics gleaming in the darkness. "You've got five seconds before I leave without you." He punctuated his words with a sharp whine from his flight engines.

As Barricade stepped away from him and ran to the door, Bluestreak called, "We love you too, Cade!"

Barricade paused in the doorway. He lifted his hand in a wave towards Bluestreak, then stepped out onto the balcony.

With a roar of thrusters, Barricade and the seeker were gone.

Bluestreak didn't remember falling to his knees in the middle of the room, the toy forgotten in his hand. He simply stared out at the open door, feeling the gentle evening breeze wafting through the opening, bringing with it the sounds of engines and sirens.

He was still there, crumpled on the floor, grief-stricken and in disbelief, when Prowl arrived home, Primal Defense Forces in tow, to find him alone in their flat.


	21. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl deal with the aftermath of Barricade's actions.

The next few days were a complete nightmare.

Barricade had already been identified by the time Prowl returned to their flat, and the Primal Defense Forces brought both Bluestreak and Prowl in for questioning. They were both outfitted with repulsor field generators while they were being questioned, which prevented them from sensing emotions from their bond mates, or from sending them anything specific. Bluestreak had heard about the practice of course, but had never considered how it would actually feel to be subjected to it.

It was disorienting, not being able to feel his bond mates. He couldn't even sense that they were online. The space that they both inhabited in his spark was blank, as though a part of him had been erased. The only way he knew that they were still connected at the quantum level was that there was no pain of a severed bond. And while he was still struggling to process what had happened, consumed by grief and confusion and the sensation of part of him missing, Bluestreak was interviewed.

'Interview' is what the investigators called it. But it felt more like an interrogation, like in Barricade's spy movies.

Bluestreak was asked extremely detailed questions about Barricade: his habits and whereabouts in the past several months, his feelings towards the Senate, his feelings towards organics, his fueling habits, whether he liked to drink or do drugs of any kind, and whether he liked to watch violent movies or shows. The investigators asked about Barricade's relationship to him and to Prowl, where they'd met, who else he was friends with, and whether he had ever discussed casually slaughtering people. They wanted to know what flavours of additives he liked in his fuel, whether he preferred to recharge in root or alt mode, what rocketball team he cheered for, what brand of polish he used on his plating, and what sorts of music he listened to.

By the time Bluestreak was released, he felt as though everything he knew about his bond mate had been sucked out of his processor. Then again, he also felt as though he didn't know his bond mate at all anymore.

When he finally got home, he found that their message queue was full of comms from all of their mentors. Bluestreak didn't feel right comming Prowl's mentors without him there, and he knew he would need support from Prowl to deal with Barricade's mentors. But as soon as he'd fueled himself up, he placed a comm to his own mentors.

Even though he knew the conversation was going to be hard, talking to them would be easier than sitting alone in the empty flat, with only the dull, blocked presences of his bond mates in his spark.

Caelum picked up the comm on the first ring. When his image appeared on the holo, he was half out of frame and was calling to someone else. "-streak! Yes, now!" Then he stared into the camera, relief visible on his features. "Oh, Bluey, we've been so worried! Are you all right? Where have you been? Why didn't you return our comms? Where's Prowl?"

"I'm sorry, Culi," Bluestreak said, and lifted his sensor wings when he saw Cygnus sit down beside Caelum. "After... After it happened Prowl and I were both taken in for questioning. I literally just got home from that. Prowl's still there."

"You look exhausted, Blue," Cygnus said. "When did you last recharge?"

When **did** he last recharge? Had it really only been a few mornings ago when Barricade woke him up in that most wonderful... No. Don't think about **that**. But how long ago was that? Two days ago? Three? "I'm not sure," Bluestreak admitted with a shrug. "And when I'm done with your call I'm going to try to get some recharge."

Caelum leaned against Cygnus, his arms crossed under his bumper. "Have you talked to Barricade's mentors?" he asked. "They called us when they couldn't get ahold of him, or you."

Bluestreak shook his helm. "No," he said. "They left messages but..." He held out his hands for a moment before letting them fall limply back into his lap. "I don't know what to tell them."

"We saw everything on the news, Blue," Cygnus said. "So did Barricade's mentors, and Prowl's. We were all worried about you."

"I assume Prowl will comm his mentors when he gets home," Caelum said. When Bluestreak nodded, he continued. "Did you want us to pass along a message to Barricade's mentors for you?" His sensor wings swiveled downwards. "I imagine that might be a hard call for you to make, so anything we can do..."

Bluestreak felt his lower lip quiver. Caelum had always had a good sense for how Bluestreak was feeling. "I'd really appreciate that, Culi," he murmured. 

Cygnus leaned towards the camera. "You really should get some recharge, Blue," he said. "I'm so glad to hear from you. We'll tell Lightbraid that you commed; she's on longer shifts now because the city wants to prepare in case..." Cygnus's voice trailed off.

Bluestreak nodded. "Thanks," he said. He summoned up the strength to smile at his mentors. "Tell her I love her. And I love you, too. It was good to see you."

"Give us a ping once Prowl gets home," Caelum said. "Then we'll let his mentors know he's home safe. That way he can rest before worrying about comming them."

"Thanks," Bluestreak said again. This time, his smile felt more genuine. "You really are the best."

After ending the comm with his mentors, Bluestreak collapsed into his berth. The covers were still all mussed and rumpled from that perfect morning, when everything had finally seemed right again with the world.

His dreams were not untroubled.

* * *

Prowl was released about half a day after Bluestreak was, and he staggered home in much the same state as Bluestreak had. "I've been relieved of duty until they can complete their investigation," he said as he collapsed onto the couch. He curled into Bluestreak's side and gulped at the fuel Bluestreak had prepared for him.

Bluestreak frowned. "Do they think that you sympathized with what he did?" he asked. He had recovered most of his energy from his questioning, but he was distracted by the intense fatigue coming from Prowl. "Because I know you don't!"

Prowl shook his helm. "I don't know," he said tiredly. "They said they'll let me know if they need more information from me." He finished his fuel and rested his helm on Bluestreak's shoulder. "And to be honest, I don't think I would be at my best right now anyway." He put his hand on his chest over his spark. "It's probably a good thing that I'm not on duty. I'm just too distracted to be efficient."

Bluestreak put his hand over Prowl's. "Where do you think he is?" Bluestreak asked quietly.

Prowl shook his helm and closed his optics. "I don't know," he said. "All I know is that he's very far away."

The thread of a bond could span the width of the galaxy, but there were limits. Chest pressed to chest with a bond mate, spark to spark, you could feel almost anything they did, even if they were trying to block the bond. But as the distance increased, the sensation from a bond partner decreased. From across the city, it was easy to block your emotions from a bond mate. At a further distance, say from Iacon to Kalis, a block wasn't even necessary, and only the strongest emotions would carry over the bond. At a huge distance, like on the other side of the planet, or from the surface of the planet to one of the moons, almost nothing could be transmitted across the bond, except for the simple presence of your partner within your spark, an assurance that they were alive and well.

That was all they were feeling from Barricade now. He was alive.

Bluestreak chewed on his lower lip. "Kaon is pretty far away," he murmured. "And that's where the... this movement is based." He couldn't bring himself to say the name of the dissident group who had stolen his mate away from him. "Maybe he's there. Or maybe he's in Vos, or Tarn. There are big groups of dissidents there, too. They've been talking about them on the news." Bluestreak started a quick calculation of driving times and distances, cross-referenced with the sub-surface thoroughfares that were still open and accessible without a permit. "Maybe we can figure out which way they went. Maybe-"

"We can't go after him," Prowl said flatly.

Bluestreak looked down at Prowl. His optics were still closed. "But maybe we can find him, and convince him he's wrong. Maybe we can get him to come back and-"

Prowl finally opened his optics and looked up at Bluestreak. "You told me how your last conversation went with him," Prowl said. His grief and anger flowed freely through the bond. "Do you really think he'll just decide it was a bad decision and come back home? Especially knowing that he would have to answer for what he did?"

Bluestreak recalled the conversation, and remembered Barricade's resolve that he was doing what was right. He remembered Barricade's face when he said that he was going to fix things for him and for Prowl.

His voice was filled with static, but Bluestreak managed to choke out the word, "No."

Prowl wrapped his arms around Bluestreak, holding him close. "We'll get through this," Prowl whispered. "We'll find a way to get through this together."

Bluestreak remembered how Barricade used to hold him like that, his arms wrapped around him, back in their small flat before they met Prowl. Bluestreak thought about how, after they'd met Prowl, the three of them would sit in a comfortable pile and watch movies on this couch.

Bluestreak thought about the empty bedroom down the hallway.

"I miss him," Bluestreak said, his optics blurring with coolant. "I'm glad you're home. The flat was so quiet..." His ventilations hitched, and he buried his face in Prowl's neck cables.

"I know," Prowl said quietly. He kissed the top of Bluestreak's helm. "I'm glad to be home, too." He brushed a hand down Bluestreak's back and added, "I kept thinking about you, wishing that I could talk to you."

They sat in silence for a while, Bluestreak listening to Prowl's steady vents and the thrum of his spark. But Bluestreak roused himself finally, and managed to get Prowl into his berth before he fell into recharge there on the couch. He curled himself around Prowl's frame, trying to hold the Enforcer as close to his spark as he could, twining their legs and their fingers together.

He soothed himself into recharge by imagining it was a normal night, with Barricade at work, and knowing he'd be home by morning.

He knew he'd keep telling himself whatever lies he needed to in order to keep himself functioning.

When Bluestreak woke, he was alone. For a moment he was disoriented, wondering if he'd dreamt that Prowl had finally come home. But the covers beside him were still warm, and when he focused he could feel a deep well of grief even through the block that Prowl had up on the bond.

The kitchen and living area were empty, so Bluestreak wandered back down the hallway. He paused at the open door to Barricade's room and peered inside. "Prowl?"

Ice blue optics glowed in the darkness as Prowl looked up at him. "I didn't mean to wake you," Prowl murmured.

Bluestreak slowly walked into the room and sat on the berth beside Prowl. "You didn't," Bluestreak said. He put one arm around Prowl's waist, pulling the Enforcer against him. When Prowl settled his helm against Bluestreak's shoulder with a sigh, Bluestreak kissed the top of his helm. "But I know you're still exhausted. You should try to get some more recharge."

"I can't." Prowl drew a shuddering vent. "I just keep thinking about the things they were asking me. I keeping thinking that maybe they had a point."

Bluestreak frowned. "What do you mean? What did they ask you?"

Prowl looked up at the ceiling, his optics blinking furiously. "They asked me why I didn't turn him in. They asked why, if I knew that he sympathized with Cybertron First, why I didn't report some of the comments he'd made at home. They asked why I didn't recommend him for advanced surveillance, considering what I knew about his friends."

"But... He's your bond mate!" Bluestreak exclaimed. Prowl had told them how an Enforcer would immediately be pulled off of a case or replaced on a call if it turned out the suspect was a bond mate. It was the same for doctors, or body specialists, or estate agents. No one was expected to be impartial when it came to a mech who shared part of your spark. "I thought they couldn't ask you to do that."

"Those are the policies for the Iacon Security Division," Prowl said, his voice flat. "The Prime's personal guard had a different opinion."

Bluestreak shook his helm. "All right, fine. But we honestly didn't think that Barricade was up to anything-"

"That's not true." Prowl's words were sharp. "I don't know how many times I got the feeling he was hiding something from us, something big. I know I mentioned it to you a few times." Prowl shook his helm. "And I'm not blaming you. It's just that while they were questioning me, I started wondering what would have happened if I **had** turned him in."

Bluestreak's ventilations caught, imagining how that would have gone down. "Cade would have been furious. You know that."

"I know," Prowl said. He turned his helm so his ice blue optics looked into Bluestreak's. "But then maybe he'd still be here. Instead of..." Prowl gestured vaguely. "Out there, somewhere."

Bluestreak was already shaking his helm. "Maybe he would have been here. Or maybe he would have figured a way out. He's not dumb. You know that." Bluestreak thought for another moment, and shook his helm again. "Things might have been even worse, then."

Prowl continued as if Bluestreak hadn't spoken. "Then I started thinking about what I might have done differently to stop this completely. Different turns in the road I could have taken." Over the bond, Prowl's emotions had turned slightly sour and bitter with regret. "You know my mentors are fairly well off. If I'd asked them, they would have fronted us enough shanix to put us in a position to apply to Vector Sigma, before it was shut down." He laughed humourlessly. "I thought about it, you know. They would have agreed. It wouldn't have come free, of course. They would have required us to move to Praxus so I would be close to them again. Or maybe they would have found some other way to keep tabs on me. But they would have given us the shanix. And if we had a mentee, Barricade would have had no reason to go off and join the dissidents."

"No, Prowl, they check for that," Bluestreak said. The topic of Prowl's mentors' relative affluence had come up, of course, along with his need to escape from their overbearing protectiveness. But the rules surrounding an application for a new build were clear. "They review all of your financial records. A large gift like that would be noticed and we'd still have gotten rejected."

"Other families have managed," Prowl said, bitterness still shining through the bond. "Small incremental deposits, over the course of several months... A few investment accounts opened here and there that suddenly do surprisingly well... There are ways to hide the gifts." He glanced at Bluestreak again. "That's one of the issues that Cybertron First had with the elites. They always found ways to get around the rules. We could have done the same." He leaned his helm on Bluestreak once more. "If only I'd asked, we could have had a mentee... And Barricade would still be here."

With sudden clarity, Bluestreak could see how such a gift could be hidden from the review that was done on a pair's or trine's financial records as part of the application for a new build. Slag, he probably could have even managed it himself. It would just have been a matter of setting up some shell companies, having the funds transferred to those companies, have the shell company purchase some investments for a passive income stream, process an application to 'hire' one of them to be a 'consultant' with the shell company that earned a steady salary, and then...

But then Bluestreak shook his helm and pulled Prowl tighter against him. "Prowl, listen to me. Something I kept thinking, all those months when Barricade was raging against the Senate and refusing to speak to us, was that I could have done something different, too. If I hadn't insisted on finding a third, Cade and I probably could have managed to meet the requirements a long time ago." He grabbed Prowl's hand and held onto it tightly. "But then we wouldn't have met you. And..." He pulled a vent and took a moment to clear his vocalizer from the static that had started to creep in. "I'm hurting so much right now, Prowl. What happened is... Yeah. It's bad. But I don't think I would ever want to give you up." He wrapped both arms around the Enforcer. "You've been so good for me. For us! And I would never want to let that go, regardless of how things have gone."

Prowl made a discontented sound, but melted slightly into Bluestreak's embrace. "You've been good for me, too," he murmured. "I never knew how happy having bond mates would make me feel."

"And besides, there's no guarantee that if we had a mentee that Cade wouldn't have ended up doing something like this anyway." Bluestreak held Prowl tighter as he voiced the thoughts that had been ricocheting around his helm while he waited for Prowl to come back home from his interview. "I mean... He never did have much use for organics. I just never thought that-" Bluestreak vented hard and deleted that thought process. "Just... Please. Stop living in the past and thinking about what you **might** have done. We need to figure out what to do now."

"All right. I'll try." Prowl's voice was shaky. The bitterness in Prowl gave way to sorrow, shaded over with exhaustion. "And right now... I think I need more recharge." Prowl pulled away just enough to look up at Bluestreak. His optics were dim. "Can we recharge in here tonight?" He glanced around the darkened bedroom. "It smells like him, and..."

"Of course, my light," Bluestreak said. "I was actually thinking the same thing."

He helped arrange Prowl on the berth before curling around him again. Prowl's ventilations quickly grew even, and Bluestreak could feel the tumult in his spark calm.

But it was a long time before Bluestreak finally slipped into recharge himself.


	22. Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War breaks out.

It seemed strange how many reminders of Barricade there were around the flat, even weeks later.

There was Barricade's room, of course. After that last night, right after Prowl came back home, Bluestreak and Prowl did not recharge in there again. They didn't discuss it, and there wasn't a decision made to not go into the room. But by unspoken accord, they started recharging together in Prowl's room, the one furthest from Barricade's.

Barricade's room held far too many memories for both of them.

When they'd swept in to take Bluestreak and Prowl in for questioning, the Primal Defense Forces had confiscated many of the data pads that Barricade had in his room. They left his personal items, though. His trophies still sat on the shelves in his room, his collection of action movies was still neatly organized under the entertainment unit, and the container of barium flakes went untouched in the kitchen. (Barricade was the only one of them who liked barium.)

The one personal item of Barricade's that hadn't been confiscated and wasn't where he had left it originally was the toy tankformer, the one that Bluestreak had given Barricade in university. The toy tankformer that Barricade had pressed into Bluestreak's hands on that last night he'd seen him. Bluestreak kept the toy in his subspace, pulling it out and staring at it whenever he thought about Barricade.

Bluestreak received permission from Urzul to take as much time as he needed away from the office, and so he stayed home with Prowl while the investigation into his action (or inaction) was completed. During Prowl's suspension, they spent hours walking around their building's highpark, wordlessly watching the air traffic swirl around their tower. They fueled at the café near their flat, the one with the delicious copper squares, more often than they fueled at home. The expense and the hit to their budget was dramatic, but worth it, in Bluestreak's opinion. They did whatever they could to avoid spending more time than necessary in their flat, where Barricade's absence was felt so keenly.

The only issue with being out of the flat so often was that they knew they were under surveillance.

They hadn't been told that outright, of course. But Prowl suspected that the Primal Defense Forces would be keeping a close optic on them, along with anyone else who was close to the Senatorial guards who had been part of the coup attempt. Of course, the Forces would be monitoring their comm frequencies for any messages from Decepticon operatives. And whenever they left the flat, they were followed. Bluestreak hadn't noticed the tails at first, but when Prowl quietly pointed them out, Bluestreak realized they were being followed everywhere they went, day or night.

It was utterly unnerving. So it was a relief when the investigation was finally completed, and Prowl was permitted to return to work.

It had been the Primal Defense Forces who were performing the investigation, not the Iacon Enforcers. As far as the Enforcers were concerned, Prowl had done nothing wrong. The Defense Forces had a different opinion, but they finally relented and cleared Prowl on a probationary basis. He wasn't cleared for full duty, but his lieutenant had pushed to allow him to at least do some deskwork.

Initially, Prowl was happy just to have something to do, something that got him away from the quiet flat, so filled with memories both happy and sad.

When Prowl started back to work, Bluestreak returned to his own job at Qhasel Logistics. But word had gotten around Bluestreak's office. Employees who hadn't met Barricade heard what had happened from others who had; Barricade's face had been plastered across every news site on the datanet ever since the attack, alongside the faces of the other Decepticons. But Urzul had been firm with her employees, and reassured Bluestreak of her support on his first day back at his desk.

"Friend Bluestreak, always listen, always consider, always think of **all** people. Not just mechs. Has respect. Is appreciated." Urzul hummed sadly, her fingers stroking along his shoulder. "Dorgu explained when I was young. I see for myself. Bluestreak, valued friend and employee." She tipped her head to the side, her dark eyes glistening over her rebreather. "Let me know if there is trouble, with coworkers. I will fix."

"Thanks, Urzul," Bluestreak said, and pressed his hands together. "This has been really hard on me and Prowl. Your help is greatly valued."

There were a few meaningful glances thrown his way, both from the organics and from other mechs, but no one caused any trouble for him. Bluestreak wasn't sure whether that was because of what Urzul had said, or his own standing in the company.

In the end, he decided it didn't really matter. Whatever the reason, he threw himself into work in an effort to forget.

But forgetting was so hard.

Barricade's presence had dimmed so much that Bluestreak had to focus to even reassure himself that it was still there. But in the quiet moments, late at night or while sitting on their balcony in the morning, he could feel Barricade's presence as a faint echo of the mech he used to know. With focus, Bluestreak could sense the occasional brush of anger, or a weak trace of his familiar determination. Sometimes he could feel loneliness, drifting over the distance between them. And twice he felt an unmistakable waft of Barricade's mischief.

Wherever he was, Barricade was still online.

One day, about a month after he'd returned to work, Prowl came home furious. Initially he hadn't wanted to discuss what had happened with Bluestreak, dismissing it as "thoughtless words from a thoughtless coworker." But when Bluestreak pressed, Prowl's anger finally gave way to a complex swirl of grief and bitterness, and he opened up.

"He asked why we didn't just break the bond with him," Prowl said, staring down into his cube of fuel. He had doctored his fuel up with copper, but Bluestreak knew how awful the taste of the slurry was even with the extra flavourings. Prowl swirled his cube in his hand, watching the glitter of copper in the liquid. "He said that he wouldn't stay bonded to a murderer and a traitor, and that if I had any steel in my struts I'd cut him out of my life."

Bluestreak gaped at Prowl for a moment before pulling him into an embrace. "That's a terrible thing for him to say!" he growled. "I hope you ripped him a new tailpipe."

"I didn't have to." Prowl took another sip, then set his cube down unfinished. "One of the other officers working the desk did it for me."

"Well, I'm glad you've got mechs on your side," Bluestreak said. He paused, peering at Prowl's face. "I can feel you thinking," he murmured. "What is it?"

Prowl's optics flicked to Bluestreak's, then away again. "It's just that... I've thought about it." He glanced at Bluestreak again. "Breaking the bond. I wouldn't ask you to do the same, of course. But..." Prowl rubbed at his face with a hand. "I oscillate between being horrified at what he did, and angry at him. How can I possibly justify staying bonded to a mech who did something like that?"

Bluestreak sat quietly for a moment. While Bluestreak still reeled from the image of Barricade pinning down the mech and ending his life, and struggled with the grief of being separated from his bond mate, Prowl's emotions about that day tipped more towards anger. Bluestreak could completely understand Prowl's feelings; he himself occasionally felt his sadness swirl into resentment towards Barricade.

So many what if's, so many things they could have done differently. But in the end, Barricade was responsible for the decisions he made, and his actions drew all three of them down into this Pit with him.

Finally Bluestreak nodded. "You knew that Barricade was... Well, we **both** knew that Cade was prone to doing reckless things." His processor provided him with a whole list of stupid slag that Barricade had pulled over the years he had known him. "You know... Fights in bars. Street racing. Just starting slag with people without thinking through the consequences. But I just can't believe that he really, honestly wanted to be a part of something like... like what happened." He remembered seeing Barricade put his pede against that mech's back and raise his weapon and... Bluestreak shook his helm to clear the image from his processor. "He was sad and hurting and furious, and he ended up hanging out with other mechs who were angry. He never did think things through when he was mad." Bluestreak let his hands fall into his lap. "I simply can't believe that he's just suddenly turned into a monster."

"There's a stark difference between engaging in street racing because you were goaded into it by a friend, and participating in an armed insurrection against the government." Prowl's voice was undercut by the low growl of his engine.

"Yeah, you're right," Bluestreak said. He looked at Prowl. "But he honestly believed he was doing the right thing. I think that's what I have the hardest time with, understanding how he could **possibly** think that what he did was right." Then he steeled himself for the next words, knowing that it could set them both on a road towards their trine dissolving. He put his hand on Prowl's knee. "But I do understand why you might want to break the bond. And... you don't have to ask my permission, Prowl. If you think it's something you need to do, go ahead. "

He felt a burst of surprise from Prowl. "But you've always wanted a trine," he said, his sensor wings tipping upwards.

"Some trine this is," Bluestreak said, bitterness making his voice brittle. "One of us is a wanted mech, and the other two were left behind to clean up the pieces." He shook his helm. "I'm mad at him, too. But I want to believe he can be made to see that what he did was wrong, that he's going to be on the wrong side of history. I want to believe that he can change his mind, and that he can make amends." He smiled. "Wishful thinking, maybe, but I... I still love him." The last words crackled with static.

The surprise and simmering anger from Prowl twisted into sadness. "I love him too," Prowl said. "Maybe... Maybe that's why I'm so angry with him." Then he smiled sadly at Bluestreak. "Don't worry. I won't do anything rash."

"Thank Primus," Bluestreak said. "We've had enough of that for a lifetime." As Prowl laughed quietly, Bluestreak let himself soak in the sound and the feeling of soft amusement from Prowl. When was the last time he'd heard Prowl genuinely laugh? Bluestreak picked up Prowl's half-empty fuel cube and swirled it, watching the murky liquid wash against the sides of the cube, before handing it back to Prowl. "But for now, finish this. We won't get our next ration until tomorrow so you don't want to waste this."

Prowl accepted the cube with a grimace, but he dutifully finished the whole serving.

* * *

The first shots of the war were officially fired in Helex.

The military, under the command of the Primal Defense Forces (which were, in turn, under the direct command of Sentinel Prime), had focused their attention on Kaon, Tarn, and Vos. Those cities were where the protests had been the loudest and most violent, and where the Decepticons seemed to be growing in number instead of being cowed. Troops had been pulled from their usual stations, leaving only a few underpowered companies in cities that weren't in danger of being taken.

So when the military descended on a pro-Decepticon rally in Helex, intending to just arrest a few mechs and break up the crowd, they were overwhelmed when the city's own Enforcers turned on the military. It was a slaughter. Within minutes, most of the military troops were dead or badly injured. Later that day, the city-state declared itself as a Decepticon-run polity. 

The rally had been filmed by the official Iacon news media, probably with the intention of showing the pro-Decepticon mechs being arrested and defeated as part of a pro-Autobot propaganda campaign. When the streamed images showed exactly the opposite, the channel cut away and only spoke about the rout in obtuse terms. But within hours, the video had reappeared on the datanet and was shared and reshared faster than the Decagon's censors could take it down.

Bluestreak watched the videos over and over that night, spinning the images back and zooming in, scouring them for any sign of a dark mech with a golden face and scarlet optics. He was still at it when Prowl got home.

After watching Bluestreak examine every mech in the wide crowd shots for the third time, Prowl reached across Bluestreak and turned off the entertainment unit.

Bluestreak's sensor wings flared out as he turned to Prowl with an angry rev of his engine. "Hey!" he said. "I was using that!"

"You've spent two hours going over the same footage," Prowl said. He tugged on Bluestreak's arm until he finally sagged back into Prowl's embrace. "If he was in that crowd you would have seen him by now."

"I know," Bluestreak said finally. He blew a gust of air from his vents. "I thought that maybe if I watched it again I'd notice something I hadn't seen before."

Prowl kissed the top of Bluestreak's helm. "I did hope that you'd find him," he said quietly. "Not knowing where he is... It's hard."

Bluestreak silently nodded in agreement, and leaned into the bond. But in addition to feeling Prowl's love and worry, he also felt an undercurrent of resentment. "What's wrong?" he asked, tipping his helm back to look at Prowl. He touched the bond more firmly. "Did something happen at work again?"

Prowl snorted a laugh. "That's the trouble with bond mates," he said. "I guess there's no sense in saying that it's nothing." When Bluestreak nodded, Prowl continued. "The Primal Security Forces are spreading the military too thin," he said. "They're falling right into a trap. I was looking at their movements – not anything classified, just what's been on the news – and they're being reactive instead of proactive. If they follow the same pattern they've been using, they'll move too many troops to Helex, leaving Kaon and Vos shorthanded. And when that happens, I'm positive that the Decepticons will rise up and take over those cities as well, and probably Tarn, too."

Bluestreak stared at Prowl with wide optics. Ever since starting his tactical training, Prowl had become an utter menace when playing Primes and Drones, so Bluestreak had no doubt that he had also used his training when looking at the troop movements. "Did you tell anyone?" he asked.

The cynical tone in Prowl's voice would have been evident even without being able to feel his resentment over the bond. "Of course," he said. "I raised it with my new section lieutenant. I was advised to keep my processor on the job, and not to pretend I worked for the Autobots." He rolled his optics at the name of Sentinel Prime's ruling party. "And when I suggested at least passing the data I'd looked at along to the Primal Defense Forces, I was verbally reprimanded." His optics dimmed. "I have a bad feeling about what's probably going to happen next."

Prowl turned out to be completely and horribly right.

Although the exact number of troops that were relocated were never made public, the news mentioned that the military presence outside of Helex increased over the next few days. Sentinel Prime gave another public speech, aimed at the cities with large numbers of Decepticons and their sympathizers, saying that any sort of unrest would be met with unyielding force.

The day after the Prime's speech, Kaon, Tarn, and Vos fell to the Decepticons.

It wasn't clear what had happened at first. Bluestreak first got an inkling that something had big had gone down when his coworkers started murmuring and gathering around holoscreens in the breakroom. There were scattered reports of riots, followed by reassurances from the Senate that everything was under control. Then vids taken by news bots on the scene started to circulate on the net, showing mechs wearing the purple symbol of the Decepticons attacking members of the military.

By the time Bluestreak got home from work, the datanet was filled with copies of a video of the gladiator Megatron, announcing that the Decepticons had freed the three cities from the tyranny of the Senate. He promised that the rest of Cybertron would follow.

"I call upon every loyal Cybertronian to join us," Megatron went on to say. "I ask that every forged spark come forward, and help us shatter the shackles that the Prime and his lackeys have placed on us." He gestured, and the camera panned around to show the huge crowd that had gathered to hear him speak. "Pledge your allegiance to our cause, and we shall wage war to topple the towers of the elite, and reclaim our planet for ourselves!"

The crowd roared, chanting Megatron's name.

Prowl was back on afternoons. So Bluestreak spent the whole evening looking at almost every frame of the video of Megatron's speech, searching for any sign of Barricade.

Surely, if Barricade had pledged his loyalty to the Decepticon cause, he would be in Kaon. Or maybe he was in Vos. After all, it had been a seeker who had spirited him away.

By the time Prowl came home, well after midnight, Bluestreak had fallen into recharge with Megatron's speech playing on the vid over and over.


	23. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl receive an opportunity to return home to Praxus.

Over the next few weeks, Bluestreak grew tired of constantly receiving 'Breaking News!' updates over the datanet.

Despite the enhanced Enforcer presence, vandalism of organic-owned businesses in Iacon skyrocketed. Urzul had to hire security mechs just to protect Qhasel Logistic's warehouse from damage, and the Iacon Enforcers had permanently placed officers at the eco-domes to protect their residents. Liat told Bluestreak that it felt like they were living in prison, having to be scanned for explosives just to go home. "Enforcers, doing what they can," Liat said, a faint buzzing sounding through his rebreather. "But even with security, does not feel safe." He let his fingers droop sadly. "When home not safe, no place feels safe."

Bluestreak thought he understood how Liat felt. Everything had changed.

The military pulled back to Iacon, leaving Helex to the Decepticons. After millennia of peace, the military had been reduced to fraction of the size it had once been, and they simply didn't have the numbers to hold the whole planet for the Senate. Sentinel Prime put out a call, asking mechs to join the military to help defend Cybertron from the Decepticons. "We need to do everything we can to protect our way of life, and our allies," the Prime said in one of his almost daily speeches. "Yes, we made some hard decisions regarding our energon resources. But these dissidents have no plan forward, aside from forcing organics from the planet. Making our allies leave or pushing them to the fringes will not restore the planet. Join us. Help our fight against this violent and short-sighted bigotry."

The conciliatory tone may have brought some undecided mechs to the Prime's side, but it only enraged others. Because public protests were banned under the strict curfews that had been established in Iacon, unhappy mechs took their rhetoric to the datanet. Before too long, the chatrooms and discussion venues were polarized into those who stood with the Prime and the Autobots, and those who stood with Megatron and the Decepticons. When the Decagon's censors started deleting content related to the Decepticons, mechs began using the unregulated darknet instead, where the censors could not reach.

Slowly, the divide between the two sides became more and more stark.

As mechs chose sides, so did the city-states. In some cases, the choices were not surprises. Blaster City and Slaughter City were places with notoriously low-paying jobs, while Praetoreus had always been a place unfriendly towards organics. It was almost as if the Autobots considered those city-states lost causes from the start, since no troops were ever sent to prevent them from rebelling against the Senate. However, when Protihex's council announced that it was ceding control of the city-state to the Decepticons, the Autobots fought back. Protihex was a key node for traffic coming and going from Iacon. After it fell to the Decepticons only a week later, all traffic had to make a huge detour through Kalis, crippling transportation of goods and fuel across all parts of Cybertron. Fuel prices in Iacon rose dramatically, even higher than they'd been before.

Meanwhile, Rodion and Uraya pledged their support to the Autobots. That was not a surprise either, considering that many elite mechs called those city-states home. And organic-heavy spaceports like Stanix and Polyhex also loudly proclaimed their support for the Prime, mostly to protect their citizens from the dangers the Decepticons presented to them.

Praxus stood alone as sides were chosen. Praxus had the benefit of having local energon refineries and recyclers that had been brought online centuries before, so they were not wholly dependent on fuel rations from Iacon. And while there were not many organics in the city, the Praxian Assembly Council declared that Praxus would be a safe place for all. They condemned the violence on both sides, and called upon the Autobots and the Decepticons to work together peacefully. "And we hope that the Senate will consider restarting Vector Sigma soon, prioritizing that ahead of all other measures," said the Praxian High Minister in his address to the city-state. "For without new sparks to lead us forward, we truly are lost."

Bluestreak tried not to think too hard about the double meaning that statement had for his trine.

The disruption in surface traffic through Protihex played havoc with Qhasel Logistics' schedules and budgets. Bluestreak spent many late nights poring over the data from the other managers, trying to find places to shave off a few shanix here or a few hours of driving there. But no matter how hard he looked, the numbers just never balanced. And it didn't help that they were losing employees. Some mechs had enlisted with the Autobots. Some organics had fled for places away from the capital, where tensions were high and security was disruptive. And a few mechs had vanished without a trace, presumably to join the Decepticons.

Bluestreak did not understand how anyone could have worked for Qhasel Logistics and still side with the Decepticons. But then again, he never thought that Barricade would have joined them, either.

Finally, one day Urzul called Bluestreak, Liat and Bumblebee into her office for a meeting. Having a meeting of the three head managers wasn't unusual: Bumblebee was in charge of the warehouse, while Liat was in charge of sales. But Urzul's agitated pacing when they walked into her office **was** unusual.

Bluestreak glanced at Liat, wondering if Liat knew what his mate was worried about. But before he could interpret Liat's perfectly still expression, Urzul turned to face them in a swirl of robes.

"Decision, difficult. Iacon, our home. But need managers behind me." Urzul lifted her head and looked at all three of them one at a time before continuing. "Praxus office, well-established. Praxus, neutral city. Praxus, safe. Qhasel Logistics will move head office to Praxus. Expenses for employees to be paid by company." She held out her hands and fanned her long fingers wide, an expression that indicated she was willing to listen. "I require plans for move from each of you. Budgets. Schedules. Wish for move to be completed in one month."

It took every bit of restraint Bluestreak could muster to control the swing of his sensor wings. The company was moving to Praxus! It made complete sense that Urzul would make this decision, both from a business perspective, and a personal one. The loss of the Protihex node was costing them shanix and time daily as their transports had to route around the disruption in the cross-planet superhighway. And Iacon had become hostile to organics. Urzul not only had to think about her company, but her stable and all of the clans who depended on her for direction.

Bluestreak totally understood why she wanted to move the office.

Bluestreak also thought about the conversations he'd had with his mentors, both immediately after Barricade left and during many of the calls they'd had since. His mentors had asked several times if he wanted to move back home, but it just hadn't made sense to Bluestreak. His job was in Iacon, and so was Prowl's. He couldn't just think about himself.

But now that **his** job was relocating back home...

With a start, Bluestreak wondered when he'd switched from thinking of Iacon as home to Praxus being home again. Perhaps it had been around the same time Barricade left.

He felt a nudge from Prowl, and he immediately sent back a wave of reassurance. Bluestreak hoped that he managed to suppress the anxiety he was also feeling.

Urzul kept the meeting mercifully brief. Both Liat and Bumblebee had simply accepted what Urzul said, clarified what she needed, and then left for their own offices.

But Bluestreak lingered for a moment. "Friend Urzul," he said, choosing his words carefully. He laced the fingers of his hands together. Even though his fingers were not as long as an A'ovan's, it was a close approximation to the gesture for indecision and hesitation. "I will prepare the plans you've requested. But, moving to Praxus..." He allowed a burr of static to creep into his voice, mimicking the sound of an unsure A'ovan. "I have my bond mate to consider. I cannot go with you if he does not agree."

With a quick nod, Urzul stroked her fingers down Bluestreak's arm. "I understand. Not all employees will be able to follow. Unfortunate." Her dark eyes peered at him. "But friend Bluestreak, valuable. Friend Bluestreak, important. Friend Bluestreak, trusted above all others. Dorgu taught me, and I have seen." She reached up and brushed her fingers against his lips, a rare gesture of trust only used for the closest of friends. For an A'ovan, it meant placing their fingers very close to the poison-tipped mouth tentacles of another. "Trust that you will make decision best for you, your bond mate, your life. I can only hope for a beneficial outcome." She removed her fingers from his lips and stroked them down his chest. "Should you stay in Iacon, perhaps work remotely. All options shall be considered, for my friend Bluestreak."

Bluestreak's sensor wings quivered as he soaked in exactly how much trust and consideration that Urzul placed in him. Then he bowed his helm and his wings. "Thank you," he said. "I will let you know as soon as Prowl and I have made a decision." He looked back up at Urzul and smiled. "And in the meantime, I'll get those plans ready for you."

Urzul trilled in agreement, and sent him on his way.

By the time Bluestreak returned home, he was feeling apprehensive. Sure, Lightbraid had insisted that she would be able to find a job placement for Prowl in the Praxian Civil Defense Corps, but Prowl had shown no interest in moving back to Praxus. In fact, every time Bluestreak mentioned his mentors' comments about moving home again, Prowl always found a way to change the subject. There were any number of reasons Prowl might be reluctant to go back home, including having to deal with his mentors being in close proximity again.

As he keyed open the door to their flat, he resolved to not let Prowl duck out of the conversation again. If nothing else, Bluestreak owned Urzul a response.

He pinged Prowl to let him know he was home, and Prowl replied with an ETA for arriving home himself. Now that Prowl was working a steady desk job they were on similar schedules, but Bluestreak always got home first. Bluestreak flicked on the entertainment unit and flipped through the news channels quickly, skimming the headlines that he might have missed while he was at work. The current news was some footage that had been leaked (possibly on purpose) of the Decepticon forces swearing fealty to their leader. In the footage, thousands of mechs were gathered in a square, calling out their loyalty to 'Lord' Megatron.

Bluestreak flagged the footage so that he could review it later, to look for any sign of Barricade in the crowd. Then he went out into the kitchen to dispense fuel rations for himself and Prowl.

Just as Bluestreak was mixing up the assortment of flavourings they both preferred to cover up the foul taste of the recycled fuel, he heard the door of the flat open. "I'm in here," he called, and smiled when Prowl walked into the kitchen. He planted a kiss on Prowl's cheek. "How was your day?"

"The same as yesterday, and the same as the day before that, and the day before that," Prowl said, radiating discontent. He set his work kit on the counter and took the cube of fuel from Bluestreak. "While I understand the need to double-check all reports entered by the street units, actually performing the checks is..." He sipped at his fuel as he considered his words. "It's tedious, menial work better suited to a drone, or at least a very junior officer."

"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "I understand how boring it is." Prowl had complained before about how uninspiring his work was, now that he was relegated to a desk job. It was supposed to have been a temporary posting while the Primal Defense Corps finished their investigation into his actions, but the 'temporary' position had stretched on for months now. "It would be nice if they would actually release you for full duty. You're well-trained, and have all those commendations. You'd think they'd want you on the street, not stuck doing filing."

Prowl's sensor wings bobbed as he shrugged. "I suspect that I have been blacklisted. My lieutenant has been working to get me reinstated, but his requests keep getting denied for spurious reasons." He shook his helm, then his wings. "Whatever happens, happens." He smiled at Bluestreak. "But tell me about your day? Did anything happen?" Prowl tipped a sensor wing upward questioningly.

"Yes. I have something we need to talk about." Bluestreak tried to project confidence and reassurance, but he wasn't sure how successful he was being. "Let's go sit down."

In the living area, Prowl stood still for a minute, watching the news as it showed the vast crowds swearing loyalty to Megatron. Then he switched the unit off and sat on the couch. "There are some wild stories coming out of Kaon and Helex lately," he said. "I've overheard our liaison officers talking about it: stories about hunts for spies among the Decepticon ranks, and that they're setting up a secret police force to root out the unfaithful. I think those oaths of loyalty are just the tip of how deep the paranoia runs. The Decepticons apparently suspect that the Prime is sending mechs to pose as Decepticons, and..." He shook his helm. "Sorry. That's probably not what you wanted to talk about."

"No, it's not, but that's all right," Bluestreak said. "I don't mind hearing about anything that might... You know." Barricade's name hung unsaid in the air between them for a moment before Bluestreak shook out his sensor wings and decided to get right to the point. "Urzul called a meeting today. She's moving the office to Praxus. She's offering to pay for moving expenses for anyone who wants to relocate with her. And... I think we should go."

Prowl's optics widened, but he narrowed his connection to the bond. All that Bluestreak could sense was surprise and the now-familiar feel of Prowl considering options. "Move back to Praxus?" Prowl said, and flashed a brief smile at Bluestreak. "I can already guess what you want to do. You've been talking about it for a while."

Bluestreak nodded. "And every time I've brought it up... You've changed the subject."

"Ah." Prowl looked down at the cube in his hand. "I suppose I have." He took a drink from his cube. "I think I was avoiding the topic because of the implications."

"What implications?" Bluestreak asked. "Do you mean your mentors? I know you said that they were sort of... smothering. But it's not like you'd be living with them."

Prowl shook his helm. "I know. And I **do** love my mentors, even if they are a bit much sometimes."

Bluestreak frowned. "Then is it about your job? Because Lightbraid said-"

"It's not about my job, either. Any loyalty I have remaining is evaporating with every report I review." Prowl finished his cube, making a face as he swallowed the last bits. "The main issue is..." He shook his helm. "Well, one of ones I keep coming back to, in my mind, is that..." His sensor wings flicked once.  
"If we move, we can't keep our comm frequencies. We'll have to change to Praxus codes. And we can't let Barricade know our new frequencies, since his comm frequency has been deactivated. If he comes back to Iacon looking for us, we'll be gone."

Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side. "Well, that's easy enough to figure out," he said. "Cade's not dumb. If our comms are deactivated, he could just comm our mentors, or his. They'll know where we are. And if he doesn't want to do that, he could probably figure it out; we'd be listed in the Praxus directory. I know that's the first place I'd look."

"I never said they were logical objections," Prowl said with a wry smile, which faded quickly. "I just don't want anything standing in the way of him finding us if he wanted to. Although, I know him well enough that if he's determined to find us, he will."

"I'm sure he will," Bluestreak repeated. Then he hesitated. "Is there anything else making you reluctant to move?" he asked.

Prowl looked around the living area, and his optics came to a rest on the shelf where Barricade's action movies still sat. "Yes," Prowl said quietly, then turned to look at Bluestreak. He had finally loosened the bond, and Bluestreak could feel the thread of sorrow weaving through their connection. "It also means moving away from here... Where I first met my trine. Moving away feels a bit like... Like I'm giving up."

Bluestreak grabbed at Prowl's hand and held it tightly. "We're still trined, Prowl," he said. "And I don't intend to go anywhere without you."

Another smile flashed across Prowl's face, and he squeezed Bluestreak's hand. "Thank you," he said, then nodded absently. "And to be honest, moving to Praxus makes sense, especially since we both have guaranteed employment. Getting away from Iacon is probably smart. I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they'll get better, politically."

"So we'll go?" Bluestreak asked, letting his relief cascade through the bond. When Prowl nodded again, Bluestreak threw his arms around him. "Great! I'm so glad you agree."

"Perhaps a change of scenery would do both of us good," Prowl replied. He watched as Bluestreak finished his fuel, then took the empty cube from him. "Do you have a timeframe for a move yet?" he asked, rising and walking to the kitchen. "I'd like to give notice at my current job."

"Urzul wants the office relocated within a month," Bluestreak said. "I'll probably have to help settle things here, but then I'll be free to move. We'll need to let our mentors know, of course. Mine already said they'd help us sort out someplace to live if we decided to move, and Lightbraid will need to make arrangements for you."

"Of course," Prowl said. He began rinsing out their cubes. He laughed softly. "I expect my mentors will be more than happy to help us find housing as well, and assist with any unexpected costs we might run into. Primus knows they've offered help often enough." He flicked his wings again. "I recall that switching your comm frequency isn't cheap."

"No, it isn't," Bluestreak said. He stepped behind Prowl and wrapped his arms around his bond mate. He kissed the back of Prowl's neck gently. "Do you really think he's coming back? Or that he'll try to contact us?" Bluestreak asked, resting his chevron against the back of Prowl's helm. Prowl's frame felt warm beneath his hands.

Prowl set the cubes to the side of the basin and leaned on the counter for a moment. "I don't know," he said. He twitched his sensor wings, encouraging Bluestreak to hold him tighter. He relaxed back into Bluestreak's embrace as Bluestreak complied. "It might just be wishful thinking but... I can't help it." The sparkache that they'd both been swimming in since the attack on the Senate swamped the bond, and Prowl's voice faded to a whisper. "I want to believe he'll see reason again and come back to us."

"Me, too," Bluestreak said, brushing his hand up and down Prowl's abdomen, his other hand resting on Prowl's hip. He pressed his lips into the back of Prowl's neck again. "For all that he put us through, I... I still miss him."

With a sudden movement, Prowl turned in Bluestreak's arms. He grabbed Bluestreak's helm between his hands and stared into his optics. "I miss **us** ," Prowl said urgently. "This whole thing... It's broken us." His clear blue optics burned bright. "But this part we can fix. This. Us. Please." Then his mouth was against Bluestreak's, demanding and giving.

As Prowl kissed Bluestreak, his lips and dentae claiming Bluestreak's with a feverish urgency, Bluestreak closed his optics and let go of the bond completely. He took in everything that Prowl was broadcasting. Grief, longing, regret, need...

Oh, slag, the **need**.

In the months since Barricade had left, since that last morning when they were all together in that last, blissful joining, Bluestreak and Prowl had not interfaced. It hadn't been discussed, not in words, but neither of them had made invitation, and neither of them had asked. For Bluestreak, he felt content to hold Prowl, and let himself be held, as each of them worked through the emotions that had bombarded them since Barricade's departure. They gave each other comfort, through gentle touch and chaste kisses and night-long embraces and the connection between their sparks. All of that had seemed like enough, at least for now. Maybe they'd both hoped that the next time they fragged, it would be as a whole trine again.

Wishful thinking, indeed.

But when Prowl's thumbs dug into the vents in Bluestreak's helm, and Bluestreak's hands slid down the sides of Prowl's hips, his fingers deftly finding the cables and seams that forced whines of desire from Prowl's engine, their need for each other inundated the bond.

It had been so long, and both of their sparks were through with waiting.

They made it to Prowl's bedroom, somehow, and fell onto the berth with a clatter of plating. Feeling Prowl's craving to be loved and cherished (feeling his ever-present ache to be told that he was worthy of being desired at all), Bluestreak pressed Prowl into the berth covers. He ran his hands down Prowl's neck, following his touches with his mouth. He nibbled along the upper edge of Prowl's sensor wings, drawing out gasps and twitches from Prowl, then kissed and licked his way down his chest. Bluestreak hesitated over Prowl's headlights and bumper, making sure every sensitive crevice and seam was given attention and care, before sliding further down.

Prowl's panels were already open, and he arched upwards as Bluestreak closed his hand around Prowl's half-pressurized spike. A lick to the inside of Prowl's thigh, a finger deftly slipping into Prowl's already drooling valve, and Bluestreak closed his mouth over Prowl's now-hardened spike. He swirled his glossa around its length, lifting off gently and lapping at the leaking tip before taking it fully into his intake once more, drawing a thick moan from Prowl.

There wasn't a need for words. What could they say? That they loved each other? They knew that. That they both were hurting? They knew that, too. That more than anything, they both wished there was one more spark, one more dark-coloured frame in the berth with them that night? They knew that keenly.

Everything they might possibly say could be expressed instead through touch and look and sound.

When Bluestreak finally tipped Prowl's hips upwards and slid into his bond mate until their hip plating touched, he rested his helm crest against Prowl's. As his strokes, slow and deep, gradually brought both of them closer and closer to that edge of no return, Bluestreak laced his fingers through Prowl's and stared into his bright blue optics.

 _I love you. I need you. I would be lost without you._ It didn't matter which of them sent what emotion, since they both felt the same way.

Then, just as he felt himself tipping over the edge, with Prowl falling right alongside him into the throes of searing release, Bluestreak thought he caught a flash of longing and loneliness: dim, faint, but unmistakably Barricade.

Neither of them commented on it, but Bluestreak felt Prowl's melancholy as they drifted into a post-overload haze and then down into recharge.

It was near dawn when Bluestreak was startled online by a sharp pain in his spark and a flare of terror.

"Barricade!"

Bluestreak gasped, his hand pressed to his chest as he stared at the ceiling. Prowl was sitting upright beside him, both of his hands mashed against his own hood. Bluestreak realized he wasn't sure who had spoken Barricade's name: perhaps he and Prowl had called it out simultaneously.

The pain and terror had faded almost as quickly as it had come on. Frantically, Bluestreak threw himself into the bond, feeling for Barricade's presence and fearing the worst. But there, there was the distant specter of his bond mate. It was as quiescent and faint as usual, but it proved that he was still online.

Barricade was still alive.

"What- What **was** that?" Bluestreak asked. He stared at Prowl, and saw Prowl's ice blue optics glowing brightly in the dark of his room. "What happened?"

Prowl shook his helm. "I don't know," he said. Prowl's voice was underpowered, and he reset his vocalizer with a click. "Whatever it was... It stopped."

"Cade got hurt. They **did** something to him." Bluestreak rubbed at his chest, still feeling an echo of the phantom pain in his spark. He gathered his confusion and concern and threw it into the connection with Barricade, even knowing that the dark mech would likely only feel a fraction of the emotion, if he could sense anything from Bluestreak at all.

Bluestreak tried not to think about how terrified Barricade must have been for his feelings to come across so strongly.

Prowl was nodding. "There's been ongoing fighting, all along the border with Kaon. And there's those loyalty tests from the news today. Or maybe there was something else altogether." His optics dimmed slightly and he looked at Bluestreak. "But at least he's still online."

"Yeah," Bluestreak muttered. Hopelessness welled up inside of him, a certainty that he would never see their missing bond mate again and a despair that Barricade would never deviate from the path he'd chosen.

Then suddenly Bluestreak was wrapped in Prowl's arms. "He's still online," Prowl murmured into Bluestreak's audial. "And as long as we know for sure that he's online, we know that there's a chance..."

Prowl didn't finish the sentence.


	24. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl move back to Praxus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About a month ago I [put out a call on Twitter](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1233194277418696709) looking for suggestions for the name of a fancy-schmancy Cybertronian restaurant. I received a ton of great suggestions, and everyone made it hard to choose! I ended up going with one of the suggestions from [@Kaekokat](https://twitter.com/Kaekokat/status/1233444160637526016) for the restaurant named in this chapter. Thank you to everyone who threw suggestions at me!! ❤

"Wake up, Blue."

Bluestreak squeezed his optics closed tighter, reluctant to let go of the comfort of recharge so soon. "Are we there yet?" he murmured.

"Yes, actually." Prowl's voice held a hint of amusement, and over the bond he was broadcasting muted excitement. "I thought you wouldn't want to miss coming into Praxus."

Bluestreak jolted upright in his seat and quickly plastered his face to the window. "Already?" he asked, trying to peer through the layers of cloud that the transport was flying through. "That didn't take much time at all!"

"You've been recharging for almost six hours," Prowl said. He reached across the armrest and picked up one of Bluestreak's hands. "If I couldn't hear your engine idling, I would have worried that something was wrong with you."

Bluestreak looked away from the window and smiled at Prowl. "I **was** pretty tired," he said. "I was so busy closing out the Iacon office the last few days that I didn't get a lot of rest." He let his helm fall back into the seat and closed his optics again, thinking of the mad rush to get all of his tasks completed before Urzul's deadline. "I'm just glad that we managed to get everything done, even if I did end up feeling run off my wheels."

"I know. That's why I let you recharge." Prowl leaned over to kiss Bluestreak gently on the side of his helm, then gestured at the window. "There... Look."

Bluestreak's optics flew open again, and he flattened his nasal ridge against the window once more. He felt his ventilations catch as he saw the Assembly's Spire rising out of the clouds in the distance. The silvery tower twisted upwards in an impossible coil, seeming to float on nothing. The Spire was featured on almost every tourist brochure and image of Praxus as the most recognizable building in the city-state.

It was gorgeous.

"I know you've never seen Praxus from the air," Prowl murmured into Bluestreak's audial. He was leaning over, peering over Bluestreak's shoulder through the window. "Does it live up to your expectations?" Amusement curled through Prowl's spark as he spoke.

"Yes, and then some." Bluestreak leaned back from the window slightly, pressing his left sensor wing against Prowl affectionately. "I'm going to have to thank your mentors again for the tickets."

"You'll get a chance soon enough," Prowl replied, and rested his chin on Bluestreak's shoulder as he continued to look out the window.

While Urzul had covered the expenses for moving their belongings to Praxus, Prowl's mentors had surprised both Prowl and Bluestreak by buying them tickets for an air transport. "The ground transports are overbooked right now," Turbine said when they commed to thank them for the gift. On the holo, the aerial twitched his wings and glanced at his two Praxian trine mates. "You'd be waiting weeks to get a seat. Plus, this way you'll get here in a matter of hours instead of days." He smiled at Bluestreak and Prowl. "We can't wait to see you both again."

"We honestly weren't expecting this, but thank you very much," Prowl replied. "Will you be meeting us at the port?"

"Of course," said Barrage. "And we've passed your flight information on to Bluestreak's mentors as well." His sensor wings tipped upwards. "I hope you don't mind."

"That's absolutely fine," Bluestreak said. He was very much looking forward to seeing his mentors again.

"But we didn't speak to Barricade's mentors yet..." Chase's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"We'll comm Barricade's mentors as soon as we're in Praxus," Prowl said firmly. He glanced at Bluestreak and patted his knee before looking back up at his mentors. "We're reviewing the list of housing you sent us as well. Thank you so much for all of your assistance."

"You've both been through a lot these last few months," Barrage had replied. "If there's anything else we can do to help, please just let us know."

As the transport moved down through the thin layers of cloud, more of Praxus became visible. The city spread out in all directions from the Spire like spokes on a wheel, shorter towers rising into the air all around it. Bluestreak had grown accustomed to the chaotic and dizzying architecture of Iacon, but there was something comforting about seeing the silver and crystal buildings that he'd known as a new build. Even though he'd never seen Praxus from the air before, he could recognize all the major buildings and identify the major expressways.

It looked like home.

"Barricade would have loved to see this," Bluestreak said quietly. He knew that Barricade had never been on an air transport, either. Well, at least not until a few months ago. Who knew what he'd experienced since then?

"I know he would have," Prowl replied, his chin still resting on Bluestreak's shoulder. He pressed a kiss into Bluestreak's audial. "But maybe he'll still get a chance."

Bluestreak nodded, trying to feel as optimistic as Prowl was sounding. He took a few image captures of the city-state as they flew closer.

Maybe he'd get a chance to show them to Barricade some day.

But then the transport was making its final approach to the port and everything was rushing by too quickly for Bluestreak to see, so he started gathering his things from his seat.

As soon as the transport landed, Bluestreak opened a local comm to Cygnus. "We just landed, Cator! As soon as we're through Admissions we'll look for you."

Cygnus sounded ecstatic. "We're waiting with Prowl's mentors. We can't wait to see you."

However, the line for Admissions was far longer than Bluestreak had been expecting. "Lightbraid said that they were tightening things down, what with all that's going on," Bluestreak muttered as the line shuffled forward another few paces. "But this is ridiculous. We've been here for almost half an hour."

"We're almost through," Prowl replied quietly. He looked tense, and his anxiety was carrying over the bond. "Just remember what your oraculi mentioned."

"Right." Bluestreak nodded and tried to put on a neutral expression.

Lightbraid had given them explicit directions for getting through Admissions. "They're scrutinizing everyone coming into Praxus, looking for anyone with possible connections to the Decepticons," she said, her tone solemn. "And given your bond mate's history, you're going to be subjected to extra scrutiny. I've done as much as I can to remove flags from your files, but I don't have clearance to remove all of them. Just answer their questions as honestly as possible." She flashed a quick smile over the holo. "And if you do run into trouble, ping me and I'll see what I can do."

When they finally reached the counter, the Admissions officer frowned when he scanned their identity chips. "So according to your tags, you have a trinemate who participated in the coup on the Senate." His optics fixed on Prowl first, then Bluestreak. "Tell me what you think about organics," he said to Bluestreak.

Bluestreak tried not to let his sensor wings shake. He knew that going through Admissions would dredge up all sorts of thoughts about Barricade again, but he hadn't expected a question about organics. "I work for a company that is run by organics," he said. "I consider organics to be among my closest friends."

"And yet you remain bonded to someone who has sided with a group who wants to remove all organics from the planet," the officer said blandly. "Interesting." Before Bluestreak could formulate any sort of reply, the officer looked at Prowl. "Your records show that you were an Enforcer in Iacon, and that you were suspended for failing to report your bond mate's activities."

"That is incorrect. I was suspended for a routine investigation following the coup attempt," Prowl said. His voice was calm, but Bluestreak could feel his anxiety and irritation weaving just below the surface. "If you look further into my records, it will show that I was cleared of any wrongdoing."

The officer nodded grudgingly. "It does. But that still doesn't explain why I should let two Decepticon sympathizers into Praxus."

"We're not-!" Bluestreak felt his sensor wings flare outwards indignantly, but before he could continue Prowl's voice spoke over him.

"We do not sympathize with those murderers," Prowl said. His own sensor wings were spread, and his voice and stance projected a sense of authority. The bond between them was only way Bluestreak knew how nervous Prowl actually was. "And we do not agree with, nor condone, our bond mate's actions. While I understand that the Praxus Bond Act Regulation 3.563.9556.2 does not necessarily apply to the Admissions Bureau, any judge would likely take that into consideration when deciding on our admissibility into our home city-state."

The Admissions officer stared at Prowl for a full minute, his face growing more and more dark with every passing second, before practically throwing their identity chips back at them. "Welcome to Praxus," he growled. "Next!"

As they walked towards the exit of the Admissions area, Bluestreak sidled close to Prowl. "What did you quote at him that made him so mad?" Bluestreak whispered. "Something like bond mates not being required to snitch on each other?"

Prowl shook his helm, and now Bluestreak could feel full-blown amusement through the bond. "I was pretty sure that a frontline Admissions officer wouldn't have all of the city-state's statutes memorized, so I took a chance." Prowl flashed a smug smile at Bluestreak. "The regulation I quoted was an older and outdated one, requiring that any changes to a bonded mech's colour scheme must be approved by at least one other bond mate."

Bluestreak gaped at Prowl for a moment before breaking into giggles. "But that has nothing to do with... well, anything!" he said. He bumped his shoulder against Prowl's. "Remind me not to play Praxus Fold 'Em against you."

Then they were through the doors, and Bluestreak caught sight of his mentors.

He didn't even remember running over to them, but when he collected himself again Bluestreak found himself folded into a three-way embrace. Bluestreak pulled in the scent of his precator's wax as he felt Lightbraid smooth her hand down his back. "I missed you all so much," Bluestreak muttered into Cygnus's neck cables.

In that moment, he could almost imagine that there was nothing wrong in the world.

"We were starting to get worried that you got held up in Admissions, but Light told us to be patient," Caelum said. When Bluestreak finally lifted his helm to look at him, Caelum smiled. "It's so good to see you, Bluey."

"Same here! And yeah, Admissions did take forever. The lines were ridiculous, and they gave us a bit of a hassle," Bluestreak said. He looked around to see Prowl being embraced by his mentors, his aerial oraculi towering over his shorter trinemates. Bluestreak glanced at Lightbraid and added, "Prowl might have something to say about the Admissions officer's training."

Lightbraid cocked her helm to the side in a curious expression, but before she could say anything Prowl was bringing his mentors over. "It's good to see you all, too," Prowl said. "My mentors were just telling me that you all wanted to take us out for fuel. I know my tanks are running low." He glanced at Bluestreak and lifted a sensor wing.

Bluestreak nodded. "Yeah, that sounds great! I think I slept through the fuel service on the flight," he said. "Where did you have in mind to go?"

"Caelum said something about going to The Shuttered Panel," Chase said, his arm still looped around Prowl's waist. Chase's sensor wings flicked up and down once in excitement, even if his expression remained composed. "I know I wouldn't mind going there! I love their rust sticks."

Bluestreak's sensor wings shot upwards. "Oh, I don't know," he said, giving Prowl a glance. He felt Prowl's dismay at the suggestion, and was reassured that he wasn't the only one who was worried about how much fuel at that particular restaurant would cost. "I mean, I've been there once and loved it, but I think that would be a bit much for us-"

Caelum held up a hand and waved it dismissively. "Don't worry about the cost," he said. "We know how the two of you have been scraping by. This will be our treat."

Before either Bluestreak or Prowl could reply, Turbine clapped his hands together. "Great! It's settled, then. They don't take reservations on such short notice, so I'll go ahead and get us a table. I'll meet you there." With that, he stepped back, transformed and roared off into the sky.

As the group started walking towards the road, Bluestreak pulled on Caleum's arm. "Culi, you don't have to do this, you know," he said. When Caelum lifted a brow ridge at him, Bluestreak hissed, "Fuel for five is going to cost a **fortune** at that place!"

"It's all right, Bluestreak." Lightbraid, who was walking on Bluestreak's other side, smiled at him. "Like we told you before, we have a bit saved up. And besides, it's not every day our mentee comes home after being away for so long."

Bluestreak was about to protest again when he felt a quick nudge over the bond from Prowl. The white and black mech smiled at Caelum and Lightbraid. "Your offer is very generous. Thank you," Prowl said, and looked at Bluestreak pointedly.

"But..." _The Shuttered Panel!_ It was one of the most expensive restaurants in Praxus! Bluestreak had only been there once before, when he and his family were celebrating his final upgrades. He remembered feeling extra shiny and extra tall and extra wide, with much longer sensor wings to match. He remembered accidentally whacking a wing against a wall hanging, causing a loud metallic bang. It felt like everyone in the restaurant had turned around to look at him. He remembered feeling so woefully out of place, and had wished he could just vaporize. "But..." Bluestreak glanced at Prowl and then down at himself. "But we just got off a transport from the other side of the planet!" He gestured at his plating, pointing out the scuffs and tiny dings on his arms. "We both need a buff, and-"

This time, Barrage was the one who waved his hand. "It's off peak right now. And you don't look any different than business clients I take there who've just come into Praxus. You'll be fine." He tipped a sensor wing towards Bluestreak's mentors and added, "Don't forget the upper expressway's under construction. It might be faster to go through the Ember District."

Prowl sent Bluestreak another nudge before saying, "We'll follow you, Cator."

Then there was nothing to do but transform and follow behind Prowl's mentors.

As they drove, Prowl sidled next to Bluestreak, close enough so they could talk without being heard by the others over the sounds of the traffic around them. "What's wrong?" Prowl asked.

"My mentors aren't rich," Bluestreak said. "This just seems really extravagant. And I'm sure that the cost of fuel's gone up here, too. Maybe it hasn't gone up as much as in Iacon, but it still won't be cheap. There's lots of other places we could have gone, so for them to pick someplace like this just seems-"

"Blue." Prowl gently brushed against Bluestreak's fender so that their plating chimed softly. "Did you see their faces? They are so happy to see you again. I suspect they've been really worried about you."

Bluestreak thought for a moment, remembering the comms he'd had with his mentors over the past few months. "Yeah, I know they were. But-"

"But nothing. Let them do this." Prowl sent Bluestreak a soft wave of affection. "They're coded to want to care for you. So, let them."

Bluestreak let out a gust of air from his vents. "Ok, fine," he groused. Then it was his turn to brush his fender against Prowl's. "Have you ever been there?"

"A few times," Prowl said. "And they do have the most amazing rust sticks."

The Shuttered Panel was exactly like Bluestreak remembered. It was all black metal walls and quartz tables and woven steel tapestries. The smell of expensive cygars permeated every surface. Intricate crystal chandeliers hung above each table, spinning slowly to create a kaleidoscope of colour around each table. The chandeliers not only provided light, but their soft chiming was just the right frequency to make eavesdropping on a conversation very difficult. The restaurant employed actual serving staff instead of using drones, and the menu was just as long and intricate as Bluestreak recalled.

Prowl ordered the rust sticks and a snifter of premium grade. Bluestreak ordered a sampler of cobalt and bismuth squares and a finger of mid-grade. He made a point of not looking at any of the prices. He just didn't want to know how much this was costing his mentors.

But the first bite into the gelled bismuth square was heavenly.

Bluestreak had been half listening to the chatter around the table, with Cygnus and Chase discussing their businesses, and Caelum and Turbine enthusing about the upcoming arts festival. But all of it faded into the background as the bite of energon melted onto his glossa, coating it in a rich layer of sour tang that soothed its way down his intake. He took another bite, then another, before licking his fingers to get every last molecule of gel.

"Blue? Are you all right?"

Bluestreak opened his optics and found that the whole table was staring at him, except for Prowl. Bluestreak blinked and replayed the last few seconds of memory, and found that he'd moaned out loud at the incredible taste of the treat that he'd made disappear. Beside him, Prowl was chewing on a rust stick slowly, his optics dim with pleasure and his engine purring softly.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine," Bluestreak said, dipping his sensor wings. Slag, he hoped he hadn't embarrassed his mentors, or Prowl's. But the chandelier seemed to have done its job; no one else in the restaurant had turned around to stare at them like they had when he'd made that racket on his last visit. "This was just really, really good." He stared down at the three squares remaining on his plate and opted to pick up his glass of mid-grade instead.

Oh. **Oooh.** Oh, that was smooth and sweet and oooh Primus it tasted like the best thing he'd ever had in his entire life and...

...Wait. Had he actually said all of that out loud?

Bluestreak glanced around the table again. Based on the expressions of everyone there, it looked like he **had** said that out loud.

"Um, sorry," he muttered, setting his glass down. At a pulse of affection and amusement from Prowl, Bluestreak glanced at his bond mate. "We've just been getting by on unfiltered and recycled fuel for so long..."

Even if Bluestreak hadn't felt the quick spike of dismay from Prowl, the rev from Barrage's engine would have clued him in that he'd said something wrong. "What do you mean, you were getting by on recycled fuel?" Barrage asked. He leaned forward, his sensor wings twitching. "Prowl, you said things were tight. You didn't say you were starving yourselves!"

Prowl held up his hands placatingly. "We weren't starving ourselves, Cator," he said. "We kept ourselves fueled. We just needed to rely on recycled fuel more often than would be optimal."

Bluestreak tried to keep his expression neutral. Prowl wasn't **exactly** telling the truth. They didn't just rely on recycled fuel 'more often that would be optimal.' Rather, they had been subsisting on it almost fully since the Senate put the conservation measures in place. Refined energon had become too expensive for them to buy on a regular basis, and virgin fuel was out of reach completely. Little sips of refined energon at a bar were about as much better-quality fuel that either of them had been getting. By the time Barricade... Err, by the time it was just the two of them, Bluestreak and Prowl had fallen back to almost all recycled fuel. It was disgusting and made their engines run poorly, but at least it kept them going.

Prowl hadn't said anything to Bluestreak about the sort of fuel they'd been purchasing, aside from commiserating about how bad it tasted. But he had made reference to his mentors' overprotectiveness more than a few times. Now Bluestreak saw first-hand what Prowl meant.

Nodding along with Prowl, Bluestreak said, "And we had a really good fuel dispenser with its own filter. So it's not like we were drinking it straight out of the container."

Barrage still looked unconvinced. "I don't care how infrequently you use it, recycled fuel isn't good for your systems," he said. "If you use it for too long you'll develop engine knocks, and it'll prematurely age your fuel pump. And don't even get me started on what it does to your fuel lines." He shook his helm. "If you'd only asked for some help, we would have been happy to-"

"We managed fine," Prowl said through a forced smile. "And besides, the cost of fuel went up everywhere."

"It didn't go up as much here in Praxus," Caelum said. His optics had been flicking back and forth between Prowl and Barrage, and Bluestreak could see his oraculi's instinct to smooth over any conflict kicking in. "But now that you're here, you should be able to afford better fuel." Caelum focused on Bluestreak. "You **will** tell us if you need anything."

"Yes, Culi," Bluestreak said. His optics wandered back towards the squares remaining on his place, and his mouth lubricated as he imagined trying the cobalt one.

"When was the last time either of you had your fuel filters changed?" Barrage asked. He frowned. "If you've been living on that sludge, you probably should have been getting them changed at least once a month."

It took every bit of willpower Bluestreak had to keep from barking out a laugh at that. Neither he nor Prowl had had their filters changed in well over five years.

"It's been a bit longer than that," Prowl said smoothly. He dipped his sensor wings again. "But we'll be certain to have it done soon."

"I'll make an appointment for both of you tomorrow," Chase said, looking at Prowl and Bluestreak sternly. "And we will be paying for it, so you have no excuse not to go."

"Thank you, Chase," Bluestreak said, cutting off Prowl's objection before he could voice it. "We'd appreciate that." He threw Prowl a glance and received a mulish brush of acceptance in return.

As Bluestreak picked up a cobalt square from his plate, determined to consume it without making a spectacle of himself this time, Turbine drummed his fingers on the table beside his goblet of airframe-grade fuel. "I find it hard to believe that fuel costs so much in Iacon that you'd have to use recycled fuel so often." Turbine frowned at Prowl. "I mean, how much could it possibly cost? Refined energon is about ninety shanix a decaliter here, so in Iacon it's what... Maybe one-twenty?" he asked. "Perhaps you could have just worked your budget a bit wiser."

Bluestreak's sensor wings shot upwards in indignation, but Prowl spoke before he could say anything. "As you know, Bluestreak is an accomplished accountant. He examined every aspect of our budget, and found lots of places where we were able to realize some savings in our day-to-day expenses." Prowl slid a hand onto Bluestreak's knee and gave it a gentle pat. "But even with his expertise, we had a hard time making ends meet. The week we left Iacon, a decaliter of refined energon was selling for four hundred twenty shanix," Prowl said. He smiled, but all Bluestreak could feel from him was smug irritation. Prowl paused long enough to let the others at the table gape in disbelief before adding, "And virgin fuel ran in excess of twelve hundred shanix a decaliter. Meanwhile, recycled fuel was just over two-hundred shanix."

Chase's mouth was hanging open. "Two-hundred shanix for a decaliter? For **recycled** fuel?"

"I think at its highest, it was about two twenty," Bluestreak said, enjoying the shock on Prowl's mentors' faces more than he probably should have. And to think they said that maybe he hadn't come up with a workable budget for them. He'd done the best he could! He looked at Prowl and smiled. "I mean, we could have cut back on something like comm connections, but then you wouldn't have been able to reach us."

A flare of mirth from Prowl made Bluestreak's smile widen. Of course Prowl's mentors wouldn't have wanted their connection to Prowl to be cut off.

"I wish you'd said how difficult a time you were having making ends meet," Cygnus said. His sensor wings were low against the back of his chair. "We would have been able to find something to send you."

"We managed," Prowl said, waving a hand. He picked up his glass of high-grade and held it up. "But right now, I want to enjoy this gift you've given us."

Cygnus lifted his own glass, and in a moment everyone else at the table had done the same. "We're just glad you're home," he said, and took a sip of his energon.

Bluestreak managed not to moan in delight at his second sip of his mid-grade. He picked up one of the cobalt squares and gave it a discrete lick. He felt his sensor wings quiver and put the square down to collect himself.

Turbine was still looking pensive. "When I heard about the protests about the cost of fuel, I really thought that the mechs in Iacon and Kaon were overreacting," he said. "I really had no idea how bad things had gotten elsewhere."

"It's been all over the news in Iacon," Bluestreak said, confused. He glanced at his mentors, then back to Turbine. "The shutdown of Vector Sigma was the trigger for the protests, but the issue of high fuel costs has been around since..." He thought for a moment. "Well, a long time. Fuel was more expensive in Iacon even right after I moved there." Bluestreak frowned and added, "And I imagine it'll only get more expensive if the war spreads."

"Well, based on the reports we've seen, the fighting is mostly contained to Kaon and a few other places," Barrage said. "I'm sure this will blow over soon and everything can get back to normal. The Primal Defense Forces are the best on the planet. They should make short work of some upstart dissidents." He smiled, canting his sensor wings back hopefully. "Perhaps you'll even be able to patch things up with your bond mate."

Normal? Blow over soon? Patch things up?? Bluestreak's frown deepened and he looked down at his place of gels. For as delicious as they'd been, his appetite had suddenly evaporated. The only reason he and Prowl were in Praxus was because of all the concerns over security in Iacon. And while there was nothing that Bluestreak wanted more than to have Barricade safe at their side again, he didn't think that a Decepticon defeat would convince Barricade to change his mind about... Well, anything.

Bluestreak looked up when Prowl put his hand on his arm. The white and black mech smiled at him, and sent Bluestreak a wave of consolation streaked with barely-checked restraint.

Then Prowl looked up at his mentors and smiled. Only Bluestreak knew how forced that smile was. "Lightbraid, perhaps you could tell me a bit more about the department I'll be working in. I read the brief you sent me, but I'd like your personal perspective."

Bluestreak sent a burst of gratitude to Prowl for changing the topic of conversation, and then picked up another gelled square of fuel.

His wings gave a tiny flutter of anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm writing this, there is a lot of craziness going on in the world, and lots of uncertainty. But it's also Spouse's and my anniversary as I'm posting this! When we got married, we never thought that we'd be spending one of our anniversaries holed up at home under a provincially-sanctioned quarantine during a pandemic. But, here we are.
> 
> I'm wishing you health and safety no matter where you are. I really do wish I was further along into the fluffier chapters in this fic. But hopefully you can enjoy this little glimpse into the families of two of our main characters. <3


	25. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes... Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music for the second scene in this chapter: [Unagi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihF8jUVT9Ns) by Berlinist, from the Gris soundtrack.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for them to settle into their new lives in Praxus.

Bluestreak quickly jumped into his work at the new office, helping to settle the employees who made the move with them to Praxus, and ensuring that the relocated operation ran smoothly. So much had to be done: cargo manifests had to be completely reworked, and new staff had to be hired to replace those who didn't move.

Several valuable staff members had declined the offer to move to Praxus, deciding to stay in Iacon. Three of those employees were Hound, Trailbreaker and Bumblebee, much to Bluestreak's dismay.

"It's not that we want to give up our jobs," Bumblebee had explained when Bluestreak took them all out for a drink the day before he and Prowl left for Praxus. "It's just that we feel that it's important to stand up against what the Decepticons are promoting."

"You're enlisting with the Autobots?" Bluestreak asked, lifting his sensor wings in surprise. He looked around the table as Bumblebee nodded. "All three of you?"

Trailbreaker nodded, and threw a glance at Hound before taking his bond mate's hand in his. "Yeah. We decided to answer Sentinel Prime's call to arms. It's not that we **want** to fight," Trailbreaker said. "But when the other option is standing by and letting the Decepticons run rampant, well... We couldn't do that, either."

Bluestreak frowned into his drink. He just couldn't see himself fighting, and definitely couldn't see himself killing anyone. Not after what he'd seen Barricade do. Even just the thought of it made his tanks churn. But even still, he felt a curl of guilt. His friends were trying to help, while he was running away from everything. "When you put it that way, I feel bad for trying to get as far away from this mess as I can," he said.

Hound made a sound of disagreement. "It's all right if you don't feel called to fight," he said. "Not everyone is built to be a warrior, and that's fine." He smiled when Bluestreak glanced up at him. "I mean, you've been through a lot, and I don't think anyone would begrudge you focusing on yourself for a while."

"You've got a line of steel running through you, Bluestreak, that I don't think you give yourself credit for," Bumblebee added. When Bluestreak turned to look at the minibot, he added, "But you should do whatever you think **you** need to do."

"Thanks. I will." Bluestreak smiled at Bumblebee. "And here's to the three of you," he said, holding up his glass. He had dipped into the shanix he'd received for the move to pay for this outing, but had still bought a very cheap mid-grade. He intended to enjoy it. "May we all meet up again in the future."

Hearing the clink of their glasses tapping together almost made it feel like the world wasn't ending, after all.

It was a lot of hard work, but Bluestreak and Urzul managed to get everything settled within a month. He was spending long hours in the office, but once things started to settle Bluestreak could see that all of the time spent was worth it.

It was fine that Bluestreak was spending so much time at work, because Prowl discovered that his incomplete tactical training transferred almost perfectly to Praxus. While Bluestreak was busy with work, Prowl signed up for the courses he was still missing to obtain his updated specialization certificate. He also threw himself into his new job with enthusiasm.

Lightbraid had found a place for Prowl inside the Praxian Civil Defense Corps in Traffic Control. His duties included analyzing ground and air traffic above, around and below Praxus, looking for threats to the city-state. "I'm enjoying it," Prowl told Bluestreak after they had been in Praxus for a few weeks. "It's much different than street patrolling, but there is enough variety to keep me interested." Prowl frowned. "I've run some analyses comparing current traffic patterns with ones from last year. There's definitely more traffic coming into Praxus now."

Bluestreak and Prowl weren't the only mechs running from the trouble in Iacon. Praxus and the surrounding city-states were inundated with refugees, all fleeing the war that had erupted on the other side of the planet. Within a few months, Praxus had become one of the main refugee centers for all sorts of Cybertronians, mechs and organics alike. A makeshift camp on the outskirts of the city quickly became a town, creating a home for all of the newcomers until they could be processed through Admissions, be issued official identification chips for Praxus, and provided with somewhere inside Praxus to live.

With help from Prowl's mentors, though, Bluestreak and Prowl were able to find housing inside the city. Their new flat was tiny compared to the last one, lacking both a balcony and a luxury washrack. But it had a comfortable berth, and a fuel warmer that worked, and a corner where Prowl could display his tiny crystal gardens. It was the differences from their old flat that gave Bluestreak comfort.

Along with the new flat came the closeness to their mentors, and all that entailed. The flat Bluestreak and Prowl selected wasn't the one that Prowl's mentors preferred, since it was further away from their place. They also managed to talk Prowl's mentors into only scheduling them to come over for fuel once a week, not every other day like they'd originally wanted. Bluestreak's and Prowl's rationale for only coming over once a week was that they also needed to spent time with Bluestreak's mentors... And Barricade's.

Sidewire and Redjaw were grief-stricken and confused by Barricade's actions. Sidewire especially seemed to have taken it personally. "I just don't know where we went wrong," he said morosely one day when Bluestreak and Prowl met them for fuel. They tried to meet Barricade's mentors at least once a week. "We thought we did a good job with him. We did everything that the mentoring classes advised us to do. And he was such a delightful new build, even if he was a bit frustrating at times." His wings were low on his back. "I keep coming back to the conclusion that maybe we're just bad mentors."

"If you're bad mentors, then we're bad bond mates," Prowl told Sidewire. He placed his hand on Sideswire's comfortingly. "Barricade... He started down a bad road. We knew we should have intervened but... We had no idea that his road would take him where it did."

"I try to remember the mech I bonded with," Bluestreak added, pulling on strength from Prowl as he spoke. When Redjaw looked up from comforting Sidewire, Bluestreak smiled at him. "Maybe you could try remembering the sparkling you took home from the forging pools."

Redjaw pulled a vent cycle and nodded. "That's good advice," he said. "And it's similar to what our counsellor told us. I'll try to remember it. Thank you, Bluestreak."

In some way, meeting Barricade's mentors regularly also helped Bluestreak and Prowl work through their own grief over the separation. It helped talking about Barricade. It helped telling stories about him. It helped just remembering the happier times, rather than wallowing in guilt. 

Meanwhile, the war raged on.

Bluestreak kept close tabs on the news, probably closer than was really healthy. He watched the reports of skirmishes along the border between Iacon and Kaon, and aerial sorties on the Protihex Highway. In theory he was keeping an optic on where the war could cause problems for the major shipping corridors, but really...

Really, he was watching for any sign of Barricade.

Bluestreak still felt occasional glimpses of Barricade in his spark. He felt faint amusement, indistinct determination, and hazy fear. It was that last which kept Bluestreak online on nights he felt it, long after he should have been in recharge. Prowl felt it too, although not as often; Bluestreak suspected that Prowl was trying not to sense what Barricade was feeling. Prowl still harboured his own anger and grief at their bond mate, and his way of coping was to block him out as much as he could.

Bluestreak found that he didn't blame Prowl at all for that. But Bluestreak still kept listening for Barricade as the war went on.

However, the longer they stayed in Praxus, the more distant the war felt. Oh, Bluestreak had to deal with its effects on a daily basis, monitoring and managing the constant changes to the shipping corridors and the fluctuating costs of fuel. And Prowl's role in Traffic Control meant that he was constantly aware of where the fighting was, and keeping attuned to inbound traffic coming from one of the war's hot spots.

The analysts on the news spoke in clinical terms of where the fighting had shifted. They talked about civilians being forced out of areas where the fighting had intensified, and damage to critical infrastructure. They talked about how the hostilities seemed to escalate every day, and everyone was just waiting for something big to happen that would decide the course of the war, one way or the other.

But it all felt so far away. The only time that Bluestreak felt that he had any sort of perspective on what was actually happening was when a detachment of Decepticon soldiers broke through the front that the Primal Defense Forces had established around Iacon. He knew exactly where that was, and could almost picture what was happening. But in a few days that incident had dropped out of the news, and newer stories were at the forefront.

It all felt like a story that was being told, rather than something that was actually happening to mechs that Bluestreak knew, in places where he'd been. Even the news directly related to Praxus seemed abstract.

"Did you hear the latest?" Prowl asked one evening as they were strolling through their favourite part of the Crystal Gardens. The soft chimes of the crystals were especially soothing right after the sun went down, and they both enjoyed going there after work to unwind from their busy days.

"I didn't get a chance to check the news today," Bluestreak replied. He stopped for a moment. "It wasn't anything about Barricade, was it?"

"No." Prowl shook his helm and gave Bluestreak a tired look. "You know I would have commed you right away if it was something to do with him." When Bluestreak smiled sheepishly, Prowl continued. "Megatron issued an ultimatum to Praxus. He said that we have to pick a side: Decepticons or Autobots. Of course, he didn't put it that way." They started walking again towards the next crystal. "He said that we needed to expel the 'wasteful' organics and turn our resources over to the Decepticons, or 'cower forever in the shadow of the Senate.' But he was very clear that Praxus needs to choose."

"Or what?" Bluestreak asked.

Prowl shrugged and paused, looking up at his favourite crystalline display in the whole garden. The milky blue kyanite pinged quietly, and Prowl closed his optics as he listened. Even if Bluestreak couldn't sense Prowl relaxing, he could see the tension slowly bleeding from Prowl's sensor wings. "Who knows? My guess is he would try to launch an attack of some kind. The Prime responded immediately, saying the same things he's always said to Praxus: that the Autobots provide the best path forward for Cybertron, and that Praxus would be better protected if they threw their support behind the Prime... At the cost of turning over our energon refineries to Autobot control, of course."

Bluestreak made a soft sound of discontent. "That sounds suspiciously like extortion," he said. He shook his helm. "Interesting how both sides want Praxus's refineries. In the grand scheme of things they don't product all that much energon... It's just enough to keep the prices down here."

"Unfortunately, neither the Autobots nor the Decepticons see it that way." With a shake of his helm, Prowl opened his optics again. "And that has set up an interesting conundrum. On the one hand, the Prime is still sworn to protect Praxus against all threats, including the Decepticons, regardless of whether Praxus turns over its energon reserves. On the other hand, the Autobot forces are all focused on the fighting. There are no Autobot units stationed anywhere near here. We're essentially on our own." He looked at Bluestreak. "The Council shot back with the usual: that the Prime needs to provide clear direction on when and how Vector Sigma will be restarted. It's basically a three-way standoff."

"Do you think the Decepticons will actually try attacking?" Bluestreak asked. The war still felt very far away, a distance that seemed to increase with every passing day. But Prowl's words suddenly made it feel much closer.

Prowl shrugged. "They might. But Praxus is very well-defended. The Civil Defense Corps have seen to that. You heard Lightbraid talk about how well-prepared we are when we went over to their place last week. The Decepticons would have to send an absolutely overwhelming number of troops to get past the walls and the defense cannons." He laughed softly as they started walking again. "Everyone said that Prime Councilor Chromeraider was crazy for building up the city-state's defenses so much. Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all."

Bluestreak looked at Prowl curiously as he felt a waft of optimism from his bond mate. "So, this morning you said you wanted to tell me something," Bluestreak said. "News that broke today couldn't have been what was on your mind."

"No, it wasn't," Prowl said. He stopped in front of the next crystal, a towering orange wulfenite spar, and turned to face Bluestreak again. "I received something today that I wanted to show you." He drew a slim plaque from his subspace and handed it to Bluestreak.

Bluestreak took one look at the plaque and squealed. "Your tactical specialization certificate!" He looked at Prowl, his sensor wings fanning out excitedly. "I thought you still had a bunch of more courses to go before you could get this!"

Prowl's sensor wings fluttered behind him as he no longer tried to block his pride from the bond. "I thought so, too. But they reviewed the courses I took in Iacon and, when combined with the other courses I finished here, they determined that I had completed all of the requirements for the certificate."

Bluestreak threw his arms around Prowl. "I'm so happy for you!" he exclaimed. "So when are you going to get the promotion?"

Prowl's wings dipped a bit at that. "There are currently no open positions in Tactical in the Civil Defense Corps," he said. "But Lieutenant Flare promised that as soon as he hears of one he'll let me know."

Bluestreak kissed Prowl, then handed the certificate back to him. "And have you told your mentors yet? I'm guessing you haven’t," Bluestreak said with a smile.

"Correct. You're the first I've told. I know as soon as I tell my mentors they're going to make a huge deal out of it." Prowl's wings fluttered again, and he added, "Although this time I wouldn't begrudge them the celebration. This achievement has been a long time coming."

"It has!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "You've been taking these courses ever since-" He stopped abruptly as he remembered exactly when Prowl started his classes.

But Prowl nodded. "I've been working on this ever since we were all trine bonded together," he said. The pride he'd been feeling was suddenly shot through with sadness. "I really thought Barricade and I would celebrate our new certifications together. Now..." Prowl sighed. "Now we never will."

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Prowl once more. "I'd never say never," Bluestreak said. "You never know what's going to happen tomorrow."

* * *

The day Praxus fell, the skies were overcast.

Bluestreak had started the day wrapped in Prowl's embrace, their frames intertwined the way they often recharged together now. It was comforting for Bluestreak, coming out of recharge and hearing the thrum of his bond mate's spark beneath his audial. It reminded Bluestreak that there were still good things left in the world.

The clouds over the city were thick, but the day's first light gleamed red on the crystal towers of Praxus. Traffic was less onerous than usual, and Bluestreak knew he wasn't booked solid with meetings in the morning. He would actually be able to get some work done.

It was mid-morning when Bluestreak received the comm from Redjaw. He frowned and let it bounce to messages. He didn't mind chatting with Barricade's mentors, but they knew his work schedule. Over the past few months they had taken to comming him and Prowl at all hours, just to talk.

Bluestreak knew they were hurting. He was hurting too! But both Bluestreak and Prowl had decided several weeks before that they needed to start setting some boundaries with Barricade's mentors. It was as if Redjaw and Sidewire had decided to adopt them as new mentees in Barricade's absence. Prowl suggested that they were using them as a coping strategy for their grief. Bluestreak thought that they just liked hearing Bluestreak's and Prowl's voices. Whatever the reason, it had started to feel like a burden as Bluestreak and Prowl struggled to deal with their own emotions, and limits needed to be set.

Even still, Bluestreak felt a pang of guilt as he ignored the comm. He noted that Redjaw had left a message.

Bluestreak turned back to his budget analysis, but he'd only been working for a few more minutes when he received another comm request. This one was from an unidentified frequency. Bluestreak frowned again and ran the number. It resolved to a frequency coming out of Kalis. He tapped his stylus on the desk, pondering accepting the comm. Maybe it was a potential customer? No, Bluestreak rejected that thought immediately. Why would they call him personally? Qhasel Logistics had its own customer service contact frequency.

It was probably a misdirected comm. He let it go to messages as well.

A moment later he received a ping, indicating that the mystery caller had left a message.

With a sigh, Bluestreak sat up and stretched, feeling his sensor wings quiver as he tensed his cables. Then he tossed his stylus down on the desk and opened the first message from Redjaw. Now that he was distracted from his work anyway, he might as well see what Barricade's mentor wanted.

Redjaw's voice sounded tense and confused, but what really got Bluestreak's attention were the first few words. "Bluestreak, it's Redjaw. Barricade just commed me."

Bluestreak's optics went wide. He started the message over from the beginning, afraid that he'd misheard and praying that he hadn't. As he restarted the message, he received another inbound comm request from the same Kalis frequency. He shunted it directly to messages and focused on the one from Redjaw.

"Bluestreak, it's Redjaw. Barricade just commed me. He said... He said that we needed to leave Praxus right away." Redjaw's voice crackled with static. "He said it's going to be bombed – something about seekers - and he said we needed to leave immediately. I told him that you and Prowl were living here now and... He sort of glitched. He said that he didn't know, and he'd try comming you next. I gave him your frequency. But I wanted to let you know in case he didn't comm you after all." Redjaw paused. "He said to get out, that we need to get out now. I notified Civil Defense, but I don't think they took me seriously. Sidewire and I are packing some things and leaving soon. I'll try comming Prowl next, but I know he's going to be set as Do Not Disturb at work." The static crept back into his voice, and he sounded lost. "I wanted to let you know. Barricade commed me."

The message closed.

Bluestreak was staring open-mouthed at his desk when his comm line pinged again. Once more it was the Kalis frequency. With Redjaw's words still echoing in his audials and his processor still trying to process what Redjaw had said, Bluestreak accepted the comm. "Hello?"

The deep voice on the other end of the comm line was spark-breakingly familiar. "Blue! Blue, it's Barricade. Listen to me."

"Cade?" Bluestreak's voice came out of his vocalizer underpowered. As he spoke, another comm queued up on his frequency. This one was from Lightbraid. He shunted that comm to messages to focus on Barricade's voice.

_Barricade!_

"Listen! Listen, **please**. I had no idea you were in Praxus. I would have commed you and Prowl first if I'd known." Over the comm line, Bluestreak heard the whine of Barricade's engine. "You have to leave Praxus. **Now.** Right now. Tell Prowl. Tell whoever else you need to tell. It might already be too late, I just found out what they're doing and – Oh, Primus! **Why** did you go back to Praxus, Blue?" Barricade's voice broke into a squeal of feedback before he reset it.

"Cade, where have you been?" Bluestreak asked, his processor still trying to sort through all of the input he was receiving. "What are you talking about?"

"Blue, I can't talk. I have to go. I can't make another comm, they might have already traced this one. Just... Go. Get Prowl, get my mentors, and yours, and go. **Get out of the city.** Now. Please!" Barricade pleaded. "I love you and Prowl so much. Please... **Please** get out of Praxus." His voice crackled with static. "I love you."

The comm line went dead.

Over the bond, Bluestreak caught a faint but unmistakable taste of dread from Barricade before the distance between them faded it back into nothing.

A moment later, Bluestreak heard the Civil Defense sirens start up. The ghostly sound quickly ramped up into a wail that could cut through any wall in the city.

"Friend Bluestreak?" Liat stood at the door of Bluestreak's office, his long-fingered hand resting on the doorframe. "Is trouble? Is warning?"

Finally Bluestreak's processor stopped reeling long enough to interpret the messages from Redjaw and from Barricade ( _Barricade! Barricade!_ ). Bluestreak bolted up from his desk. "Yes. That's the Civil Defense warning system. We have to go, now. Get everyone together. I'll clear out the front offices here, you get everyone from the shipping department. Meet at the loading dock." When Liat hesitated, Bluestreak blared his horn at him. "Go! Now!"

The A'ovan buzzed loudly, his dark optics going wide, before vanishing down the hallway in a swirl of robes.

As Bluestreak ran through the offices towards the loading docks, he stuck his helm into every single room as he passed, calling out the warning to leave. As he ran, urging all of the clerks and billers he found to make their way outside, he played the message from Lightbraid.

"Bluestreak. I'm copying this message to Prowl. There are over a thousand Decepticon seekers headed towards Praxus, and they are not answering hails. Scans are showing they're loaded with plasma bombs. We're powering up our defense cannons, but they're likely to be overwhelmed quickly with those numbers. Get yourself to a safe place as soon as you can. The closest shelter to your office is 1.4 kilometers to the east, in the Torus Tunnel. Drive, drive as fast as you can, Blue." Lightbraid's voice sounded tense, and Bluestreak could almost see her small frown. "Drive fast and don't look back. Just remember... We love you."

Bluestreak's spark twisted in its casing, horror warring with disbelief.

A part of Bluestreak's processor was still sure this was all a horrible mistake. Someone had gotten their wires crossed. Someone had misinterpreted something on a monitor. In an hour or so he would be laughing, feeling slightly embarrassed that he'd caused so much fright amongst his coworkers.

He reached out across the bond for Prowl, and found that his bond mate had lowered the block he used while he was at work. Prowl felt focused, determined... And terrified.

He hoped that Prowl was someplace safe.

He pinged Prowl a single message. _Did you listen to the messages? Cade, he... I love you, Prowl. We'll get through this._

Prowl's reply was immediate. _I heard. I know. Traffic Control is heading to shelter. I love you, too. Be safe, my Blue._

By the time Bluestreak got to the loading dock, it was filled with a mix of mechs, Povians, and A'ovans. Tense conversation created a babble of noise that was still not as loud as the wail of the siren outside.

Bluestreak blared his horn again to get everyone's attention. As soon as everyone in the dock was looking his way, he boosted the gain to his vocalizer as much as he could. "If you didn't guess, that sound means there's trouble heading our way. We need to get to shelter as fast as we possibly can." Bluestreak glanced at Urzul, suddenly wondering if he should have talked to her first before taking the lead, but she waved her fingers at him to continue. "If you've got a vehicle mode, use it. If you don't, hitch a ride. Everyone take an organic or three, as many as you can fit. We're headed to the Torus Tunnel entrance. Top speed, and don't stop for anything!"

As mechs began transforming around them, Urzul pulled Liat to her side. "Friend Bluestreak!" Urzul's long fingers jerked back from Bluestreak's plating as he transformed, then resumed gently stroking his roof. "You said, is trouble? Of what sort?"

At that moment, a faint thud broke through the siren's howl, followed by another. "Decepticons," Bluestreak said, and revved his engine. "Get on, Urzul. Hang on tight, as tight as you can." He waited until both Urzul and Liat had sunk their long fingers into the transformation seam between his roof and his front panel screen before roaring out of the garage and into the street alongside the other mechs.

The streets were packed with mechs and organics, seemingly driving and running in all directions at once. Bluestreak swerved around a slower-moving cargo unit, his sensors finding the clearest path through the traffic. If this had been a normal drive, he would have been cited for a dozen different things but...

The thudding sound grew louder. To the north, a strange blue light flashed between the buildings, reflecting off the crystal towers of Praxus.

"Friend Bluestreak!" From atop Bluestreak's roof, Liat squealed as he hung on tightly. Bluestreak wished that A'ovans were small enough to fit inside him like Povian pups. "Is too fast!"

Up ahead, Bluestreak saw the opening to the Torus Tunnel. "Hang on! Just a little further!" Bluestreak called, dodging around a group of Akkiel who were running in a pack for the same destination. "We're almost–"

The world around Bluestreak flashed with a blue-tinged white light. The street turned upside down in a roar of noise and the flash of paint-peeling heat and the sound of screams.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

_Systems initializing._

_Critical damage detected. Emergency diagnostics completed.  
Spark containment: critical.  
Energy levels: low.  
Fuel levels: low. Major leak(s) detected._

_Warning: Seek medical attention immediately. Stasis lock imminent._

Well, that's not good.

What happened? I can't remember. I was worried. Something about Prowl? Something about...

Cade? Was I talking to Cade?

Everything hurts. It feels like I'm on fire! I can’t move. And my sensor data is all garbled. It's almost as if...

Ugh. None of the sensors down my left side are working. Maybe if I transform and take a look around it'll be easier to-

Aaaaah! Ow ow! Fragging Primus that **hurts**. Ok, no transforming. Sensor data only.

Lots of rubble and debris. Flames, I think. Slag, what happened?

Oh, there's Urzul next to me.

Urzul? Oh, I can't talk, either. And...

Urzul?

Why is she so still?

She's leaking.

Her rebreather's broken.

So is her...

Oh.

Oh no.

What happened?

Primus, everything hurts so much. Why does it feel like I'm burning? Why can't I move?

Prowl? Prowl? Are you there?

Prowl? I'm scared.

_Warning: Seek medical attention immediately. Stasis lock imminent._

I know. I know!

Prowl?! Prowl, please. I can feel you. Please, are you all right? Where are you?

Barricade?

Everything hurts.

I'm so cold. It feels like I'm burning, but I'm so cold.

_Spark containment: critical.  
Energy levels: low.  
Fuel levels: low. Major leak(s) detected._

_Initiating stasis lock. Powering down._

Prowl...

* * *

Everything hurt.

From his pede tips to the points of his chevron, there didn't seem to be a single spot in or on Bluestreak's frame that did not hurt in one way or another. His plating burned. His lines and cables throbbed. His joints screamed in agony even without moving them.

But the worst pain of all was the emptiness in his spark.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was alone. He reached out for the comfort of Prowl's presence, or for the mere reassurance that Barricade was still alive, and found nothing. The space that his bond mates had inhabited was now a gaping wound, raw and ragged.

_Prowl!_

_Barricade!_

The silence in his spark was deafening.

His optic flickered on. Just the one; the other was either inoperative or missing. All he could see was a bright light over him, blinding in its brightness.

Everything hurt. Everything hurt, including his very soul.

Bluestreak tried to move his arms, tried to bend his legs, tried to curl himself into a ball. He wanted to press his hands to his chest over his spark, but he couldn't move. His hands wanted to twitch, his pedes needed to jerk with the pain wracking his frame, but he couldn't move anything.

He opened his mouth, and screamed out his pain instead.

It helped, a bit, the screaming. In a few moments, the screams morphed into wails as his pain and anguish poured out of him in sound. As long as he focused on shredding his vocalizer, he wasn't as aware of how every centimeter of his frame burned, or how two huge hollow spots had formed in his spark.

For as long as he howled, he wasn't focused on facing the future alone.

His HUD was offline, as was his chronometer, so he didn't know how long he screamed before he heard voices. The words were garbled, as if his audials were shorted, as if he was only hearing every few words. Heads floated over him, their optics peering down at him from above.

Every touch of their hands on his plating was fresh, searing agony.

"–spark and –"

"–him offline!"

"–mate. Find–"

"–cable. I've got it."

Then Bluestreak was drowning, falling back into blessed, senseless darkness.


	26. Reawakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak discovers just how much of his life has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to leave you guys with a cliffhanger like that for too long, so have another chapter. :)

Bluestreak was honestly surprised when he came back online. The last moments that were recorded in his memory were of pain and sorrow and despair, and he remembered hoping that the numbing darkness welling up to engulf him would also escort him back down into the Allspark.

But as his boot-up sequence finished, Bluestreak realized that the pain he'd been feeling on his plating, and in his lines and joints, had faded somewhat. The pain wasn't gone, by any means – parts of his back and chest felt like a million pins were scraping off his paint, and every joint felt stiff like it hadn't moved in eons – but his frame didn't feel like one giant open wound the way it had before. He no longer felt like he was being smelted alive, and he could flex his pedes-tips and move his fingers without too much trouble.

His spark... His spark still hurt. It was not the unbearable agony that he remembered the last time he was awake. It had been dulled to a bearable level.

But there was still an emptiness inside of him, a silence where there had once been a soft hum. His spark was alone.

_Prowl. Barricade._

He was **alone**.

Bluestreak heard himself whimper, but as soon as the sound escaped his vocalizer he felt his right hand get scooped up and held.

"Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak onlined his optics and saw only a dimly-lit ceiling overhead. He painfully turned him helm to look to his right.

Holding his hand, his plating as white and black and clean as it ever was, was Prowl.

"Prowl?" Bluestreak's voice was barely even audible, but he didn't have the strength to amplify it. How could this be Prowl here next to him, when his spark was so empty? "Prowl?"

Prowl's ice blue optics brightened when Bluestreak's gaze met his, and his hand tightened around Bluestreak's. "It's me," Prowl said softly. "I'm here. You're safe."

Bluestreak's hand twitched in Prowl's, wanting to reach up with his free hand and touch Prowl's face to prove to himself that his mate was there, and real, and not a hallucination. He was too weak to reach that far, though, and his hand settled on his chest over his spark. The instant his hand touched his plating, his chest erupted in agony where his hand had landed on it. He ripped his hand away again as he cried out in pain.

Prowl immediately grabbed his other hand, and held them both. "You're badly burned, Blue," Prowl said. "Don't... Just don't touch anything."

As the pain in his chest subsided again, Bluestreak whimpered again as he probed the emptiness inside his spark. Each touch against those empty places brought a fresh sting of pain and loss. "Prowl... I can't feel you," Bluestreak scratched out.

Prowl's jaw shook as a complex ripple of emotions cascaded across his face. "You almost died, Blue," Prowl said. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and his grip on Bluestreak's hands got even tighter. "You were caught in a plasma explosion. They had to restart your spark four times. Your bonds were broken. But they saved you, and we..." Prowl's voice broke into static, and he reset his vocalizer. "All that matters now is that you're alive." Prowl pressed his lips to the back of Bluestreak's fingers. "And we can reestablish our bond."

"Not until his condition improves," said another voice. Bluestreak turned his helm and saw a doctor standing on the other side of the berth. He was fussing with a monitor standing next to Bluestreak, making adjustments and noting something on a datapad. Then he smiled at Bluestreak. "I'm Doctor Triage," he said. "It's good to see you online finally. You're at the Central Iacon Medical Centre."

"Iacon?" Bluestreak asked. Without thinking he reached out for his bond mates again, and flinched away when he found nothing but pain. He gasped. "Why..."

Triage glanced at Prowl before answering. "Praxus was destroyed by the Decepticons," he said. As the doctor spoke, Bluestreak felt Prowl's hand shaking. He turned to look at Prowl again, whose optics had closed, but Bluestreak tried to focus on what Triage was saying. "You have severe plasma burns, and you had to spend over a week in a CR chamber to stabilize your condition. But you're one of the lucky ones." There was a hint of sorrow in Triage's otherwise professional tone. "You're one of only a few thousand survivors."

Memories, fragmented and disjointed, had started sorting themselves into an understandable narrative in Bluestreak's processor. He remembered the call from Redjaw, an explosion, driving across Praxus with Urzul and Liat on his roof, the wail of the Civil Defense Siren, and –

_Barricade. Barricade's voice, telling him to run._

But the doctor continued on. "Your bond with your mate here can be reestablished once you've regained some of your strength, and your spark stabilizes," Triage said. "In the meantime, we've got you on some analgesic programs to dull the pain from your broken bonds." His tone turned apologetic. "It's as much as we can do, unfortunately. Nothing will ever truly heal a broken bond, but time will gradually makes the pain more bearable. I'm sorry."

Bluestreak only half-heard what Triage was saying, his processor clinging to the memory of Barricade's deep voice coming over the comm line. "Cade," Bluestreak said. He found the strength to make his vocalizer louder, and he stared at Prowl. "Cade. He commed me. He wanted to warn us. He tried..."

Prowl's face twisted into a complex mask of grief.

"I'll leave you two alone," Triage said. He focused on Prowl. "If he slips back offline, let him. He needs his rest." Then he stepped away from the berth, vanishing out of Bluestreak's sight.

Bluestreak looked up at Prowl, gripping his hand with as much strength as he could muster. "He commed me, Prowl. Right before the attack. He didn't know that we were in Praxus. He said that if he'd known, he would have -"

"I know," Prowl said. "I got the message from Redjaw." Prowl's jaw worked again as he ground his dentae together. "But I can't think about that right now, Blue. I need to focus on you, and making sure you get better... So that we can reestablish our bond." Prowl's voice crackled into static again and faded out.

He was still exhausted, but something nagged at Bluestreak. It was something someone had said. It was something in the words that had been used. Bluestreak studied Prowl's face: the set jaw, the dimmed optics, the look of fatigue he wore, the resignation in the set of his sensor wings...

Their bond. Reestablishing their bond.

Bonds broke. It happened all the time. It could happen through separation, through illness, through injury, or on purpose. Even the strongest bonds could be damaged or broken when one member experienced significant trauma.

Bonds between mates who hadn't been in close proximity for a very long time sometimes faded, and needed to be refreshed. For example, the construction mechs who had spent years building the new energon collectors on Luna 2 almost always needed to refresh their bonds with their mates after returning to Cybertron. It was one of the reasons they had earned high pay.

Bonds where one mech was injured or sick could degrade, and needed to be repaired. The quantum connection between sparks would get out of synch, and a repair function would need to be run on the bond to ensure it was fully functional again. Degraded bonds caused the same sort of pain that a broken bond did, but they were easier to fix.

Broken bonds had to be completely reestablished.

Bonds could be broken through a severe illness, or a life-threatening injury. Any trauma to the spark or its function might break a bond, severing the quantum connection between the mechs and causing great pain in the process. In order to reestablish the bond, both mechs needed to have their spark's connections reset back to default so that the link between them could be firmly established once more. In a trine, the injured mech's trine mates would both have to be reset to allow all of the bonds to be correctly reestablished.

Not resetting their connections would mean that the reformed bond would quickly become unstable, possibly even causing spark degradation. The safest way to reestablish a broken bond would be to break all the bonds, and start over.

Right now, Prowl had one broken bond. When Bluestreak and Prowl reestablished the bond between them...

"Cade," Bluestreak whispered. Fatigue pulled at him, but he struggled to stay online. His empty spark throbbed, seeking strength from the mates it once knew, but finding none. But Prowl would still have one bond remaining: his connection to Barricade. Bluestreak clung to Prowl's hand as tightly as he could. "If you're reset, you'll lose Cade."

"I know." Prowl's voice sounded thick. "But you're the one here with me now, Blue. You're the one who's important right now. And you aren't alone." He kissed Bluestreak's fingers again. "As soon as you're well enough, we'll reestablish our bond. I want you to know, in your spark, that I'm here with you. Forever."

Before Bluestreak could say anything else, his vision faded back into darkness. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of Prowl's lips on his fingers.

* * *

The next time Bluestreak came back online, Prowl was sitting by his berth again. Bluestreak's chronometer showed he'd been offline for over a day, but he still felt exhausted.

As soon as Prowl noticed he was online, Prowl took Bluestreak's hand in his. "I was thinking you wouldn't wake up before visiting hours were over," he murmured, stroking the back of Bluestreak's hand with his thumb.

"I'm glad I caught you then," Bluestreak said. His voice sounded strange and weak.

"How do you feel?" Prowl asked.

"Tired. Like I got slammed by a convoy class." Bluestreak left out the prickling and burning sensation he was still feeling across his chest and back. He didn't want to worry Prowl. He turned his helm and looked at the parts of Prowl's frame that were visible. "I'm just glad **you** didn't get hurt when..."

The confusion and shattered memories Bluestreak had onlined with before had sorted themselves out, and he could remember why he felt so sore, and why he felt so tired, and why his spark hurt so much. At least Prowl seemed to have been spared the worst of it, somehow.

A frown flashed across Prowl's face before he could school his expression. "As soon as we saw what was coming, they ordered all of the mechs in Traffic Control and some of the other departments into the lowest level of the Civil Defense complex. We almost didn't make in time before the first bomb hit." He slowly lowered his wings, and his optics dimmed. In a voice laden with guilt, he said, "They knew there wasn't much time. They said they needed as many of us to stay online as possible to look for survivors after the attack." He closed his optics. "I'm... I'm very glad we were there to help who we could."

 _Slag._ The pain on Prowl's face said so much, but Bluestreak's spark ached. He wished he could sense exactly what Prowl was feeling, and give Prowl as much strength as he could through the bond. But now that he was more alert than the last time he'd been awake, the questions surged through his processor. Cities didn't just disappear. He held onto Prowl's hand tightly and asked, "The doctor said... Was Praxus really **totally** destroyed?" When Prowl's sensor wings quivered and fell, Bluestreak squeezed his hand. "What about... My mentors, or yours?"

Prowl simply closed his optics and shook his helm.

Bluestreak couldn't stop the warble in his voice. "Everyone?"

"They're all gone," Prowl whispered. When he opened his optics again, they were wet with pooled coolant. " **Everyone** we knew in Praxus is gone."

While Bluestreak felt stronger than he had the previous time he'd awakened, Prowl's words seemed to knock every bit of energy out of him again. He didn't even have the strength to cry. Instead, he stared dully up at the ceiling over his medical berth.

They were **all** gone? Cygnus, his easy-going precator, who delighted in creating delicate glass ornaments to hang in the windows of his glass smith shop? Caelum, his loving oraculi, who always seemed to know what Bluestreak was thinking, even before he said anything? And Lightbraid, his other rock-steady oraculi, who had acted as buffer and mediator between Bluestreak and his other two mentors when he got into trouble as a youngling?

How could they possibly be gone, just like that?

Grief welled up inside him, threatening to consume him. He couldn't seem to get enough air to cool his systems for a moment. He instinctively reached out for his bond mates' presences... And found nothing.

He heard a faint whine, and realized the sorrowful sound was coming from him.

Prowl had brought Bluestreak's hand to his lips once more, and Bluestreak felt warm liquid dripping from Prowl's optics onto the back of his hand.

Barrage. Chase. Turbine. Prowl had lost his mentors, too. And Barricade's... Redjaw and Sidewire. Gone.

But if **everyone** was gone... There were more. So many more. All of Bluestreak's coworkers and friends: Urzul and Liat. Tsikla. Gearscrap. Piloum. The owner of the café near their flat. The bodywork specialist Bluestreak went to, the one who had the right luster of silver paint for his plating. The friendly musician who lived in the flat next to theirs.

All gone.

Bluestreak tried to speak, and failed. When he reset his vocalizer, sound finally came out. "What happened?"

Prowl remained motionless for a moment, then lifted his helm. Streaks of coolant decorated his cheeks. "The Decepticons sent what must have been their entire air force to Praxus." Prowl's voice was steady, but his hand shook in Bluestreak's. "They were loaded with plasma bombs, designed for maximum destruction. Those bombs were outlawed after the Targus War, millennia ago, but somehow... Somehow the Decepticons had thousands of them, although it didn't take a lot of detective work to figure out where they got them. After all, they did take control of Blaster City and its arms factories, and... To be honest, it's a miracle anyone survived at all." Prowl's optics dimmed. "The only things that were not destroyed were Praxus's energon refineries. All of the workers in them were slaughtered by the Decepticon troops once they were finished bombing the city, and the Decepticons have taken control of the remaining fields inside Praxus."

"So this was all just to get Praxus's energon?" Bluestreak whispered. His couldn't find the strength to boost the volume of his voice. "They killed millions of people just for fuel?"

"That was one goal." Prowl's face and voice hardened. "But Megatron also wanted to make an example out of Praxus. After the bombing, Megatron gave a speech saying exactly that. He intended it to be a notice to the rest of Cybertron that straddling the fence was no longer an option." Prowl's engine took on a low growl as he spoke. "He intended it as a warning to choose sides: side with the organics and the Autobots, or side with Cybertronians and the Decepticons."

"But Praxus was the only neutral city left!" Bluestreak exclaimed. From the other side of the ward, someone made a shushing noise, which Bluestreak ignored. "Who was left to choose sides?"

"The neutrals. There are mechs all over Cybertron who want no part of this war." Prowl paused, pulling a vent. Bluestreak could almost see Prowl's actions calming and focusing him. "Megatron wanted to show Cybertron that if you weren't on the Decepticon's side, then you are an enemy to them, and to other Cybertronians. He wanted everyone to pick a side." Prowl's sensor wings rose and his engine revved. "Almost every mech on the planet is now wearing an Autobot badge or a Decepticon one. So... Mission accomplished, I suppose."

"I hate to do this, but visiting hours are over," said a quiet voice. Bluestreak turned his helm to see a nurse hovering at the end of his berth. The nurse gestured around the ward, at all of the other berths lined up in the huge room. "Everyone needs their rest."

"Of course." Prowl dipped his sensor wings as the nurse nodded and moved away to the next visitor. Prowl leaned over and kissed Bluestreak gently on his helm crest. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Wait! Where are you staying?" Bluestreak asked as Prowl stood up. He'd been fighting fatigue since he'd come back online, and recharge called to him. But he wasn't quite ready to let Prowl walk away yet... Not when he still couldn't feel his bond mate. Not when he'd lost so much already.

Prowl smiled slightly. "Do you remember Streetwise? He was another street unit in my precinct." When Bluestreak nodded, Prowl continued. "When he'd heard what happened in Praxus-" Prowl's voice broke up for a moment before he recovered. "When he'd heard what happened, he offered me the couch in his place for free."

"That's good!" Bluestreak smiled at Prowl, still clinging to his hand.

Prowl's smile widened and his optics brightened. He bent down and kissed Bluestreak again. "I have to go, Blue," he whispered, glancing up at the nurse who was headed back their way. "I'll see you tomorrow.

Bluestreak frowned but nodded. "I love you," he said. "Even if you can't feel it."

"I don't have to feel it to know it," Prowl replied with a small smile. He squeezed Bluestreak's hand once more before walking away into the dim light of the ward.


	27. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak has new scars, both external and internal.

The next time Bluestreak came back online, Prowl was not at his side.

"Visiting hours don't start for a little while yet," said the nurse who came to check on him and slather his plating with a waxy cream. He'd said his name was Pipette. "The friend you're looking for... Is he another Praxian? White and black? Red chevron?"

"Yeah, that's Prowl. He's one of my bond mates," Bluestreak said, and hissed as Pipette smoothed the medicated wax around his headlights. He knew that the wax was meant to help, but it felt as though the nurse was smearing searing acid onto his plating in broad strips. "Oh, slag that hurts," he whimpered. It was hard not to squirm under the nurse's hands.

Pipette murmured an apology. "You've been offline for all the other applications. I know it isn't comfortable. But while it hurts at first, it'll cool and then it should help with your pain." He finished buffing the wax into one spot and started working on another strip. "Your bond mate's been here every single day since you've been admitted, just sitting and waiting for you to wake up. He shows up as soon as visiting hours start. I would expect the same thing today. He's been very worried about you. He seems like a good mech."

"He's the best," Bluestreak said softly. He instinctively touched the bond, seeking Prowl's presence, and inwardly recoiled when he felt the emptiness again.

Paying attention to the pain on his plating was better than focusing on the pain in his spark.

Pipette finally finished applying the wax to Bluestreak's chest and sat up with a smile. "But now that you're online, it'll be easier for me to do your back. Can you sit up for me?"

It took some effort, but with the nurse's help Bluestreak managed to get to a sitting position. As he leaned forward and tried not to twitch his sensor wings too much, he ground his dentae together at each touch. "Once you're done with my back are you finished?" he asked, fervently hoping that the answer was yes.

"Almost. I'll have to also do your left sensor wing and pede," Pipette said. He paused and leaned over so he could look at Bluestreak's face. "They did explain what happened, yes?"

"They're plasma burns, right?" Bluestreak asked. As Pipette nodded and started smearing his back with wax again, Bluestreak looked down at his chest. All of the silver paint had been stripped away, leaving the surface of his plating looking bare and gnarled and bubbled. "And this wax is supposed to help?"

"It'll help quite a bit... With the scarring and the pain, anyway," Pipette said. He sounded hesitant. "The doctor will be able to tell you more, but some of your colour nanites may have been permanently damaged. You probably won't know for sure until the burns have healed." He gently buffed another spot on Bluestreak's back. "You're lucky you were in vehicle mode when you were caught in the blast. None of your internal surfaces were damaged too badly." He pulled his hand back from Bluestreak's plating. "I'm going to start on your wing now," Pipette warned.

Bluestreak nodded and gritted his dentae, waiting for the first touch on his left sensor wing.

When Pipette was finally done, Bluestreak felt wrung out. He simply laid back as Pipette arranged the berth so that Bluestreak could remain sitting. "It'll do you good to sit up for a bit," the nurse said, fussing with the cushions. The he handed Bluestreak two data pads. "One of those is loaded with some entertainment shows, mostly comedies. You know, something to raise your spirits. The other is news. When I pick them up later let me know if there's something else you'd prefer."

Bluestreak accepted the pads and glanced at them both. His plating still prickled with pain, but he could already feel the sensation fading as the wax did its job. Without the distraction of the pain, he knew his thoughts would probably drift back to Praxus, and his mentors and... Yes, some kind of a diversion would be nice. "This will be fine," he said with a smile. "Thanks."

Pipette smiled and moved off to the next berth. Now that he was sitting, Bluestreak could see that the ward was filled with mechs on berths just like his. There must have been over a hundred mechs in just this ward alone.

Flicking on the data pad containing the news, Bluestreak started skimming the headlines. As he read, his optics grew wider and his spark grew heavier. Maybe reading the news had been a poor choice, but he wanted to know what he'd missed.

It had been about five weeks since the attack on Praxus, and so much had happened in that time.

Just as Prowl had described, the attack seemed to have galvanized mechs who were still not part of the war, on one side or another. And within days of the attack, there was a rush off-planet. Bluestreak skimmed the stories of the chaos. There was a story of mechs in Rodion fighting to get on a ship leaving Cybertron. At the Stanix space port, a riot broke out when mechs tried to board an Akkiel ship uninvited and were turned away. One of the huge, lumbering Szorian freighters taking off from Nova Cronum was crippled by a Decepticon missile attack, and ended up crashing back down to the surface at the edge of the Sea of Rust. Everyone on the ship was killed in either the crash or by Decepticons when it was boarded. The remains of the ship itself were claimed and dismantled by the Decepticons for parts.

Bluestreak frowned and read on.

As non-aligned mechs and organics sought to flee the planet, Sentinel Prime made several calls for calm. He insisted that the Autobots were winning the war against the Decepticons, despite all of the information to the contrary flying around on the darknet.

Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side when he read that, since the official news brokers never mentioned the darknet directly. It was always called "unofficial discussion forums" or "unauthorized information sites." He checked the feed he was reading, but it was definitely an official news source. Interesting. He wondered what had changed.

When Bluestreak read the next story, he got his answer.

About a week after the Fall of Praxus (that was the official term now, one that Bluestreak still couldn't wrap his processor around), Sentinel Prime was killed in a terrorist attack in his residence.

There was a massive explosion, taking down the whole building where the Prime lived in the Towers district. Reading through the stories that were published that day, Bluestreak thought he got a taste of the confusion that the attack had sown. At first, the Prime couldn't be found. Then there were reports that he had been killed. No, he was alive! No, he was dead after all. And then came the news that the Matrix of Leadership was missing.

Rumours immediately started flying around that the Matrix had been stolen by the Deceptions in an effort to provide legitimacy to their claims that they were the only true path forward.

The next day, though, the Autobot Senate reconvened at a secret location. Alpha Trion, a retired Senator and respected historian who was now the head archivist at the Decagon, stood before the news holocams. At his side was an unfamiliar mech: a broad-chested red and blue convoy class who had a deep calming voice.

"By unanimous decree of the Senate, the Matrix of Leadership has been passed on to Optimus Prime," said Alpha Trion. "His friends once knew him as Orion Pax, a dock worker at the space port. But now he has accepted the burden and responsibility of leading us through these dark times." Alpha Trion paused, looking up at the mech who towered over him. "May Primus guide your path, Optimus Prime."

On the vid that Bluestreak watched, Optimus hesitated. Then he said, "I don't know if I deserve this honour." His voice was strong but strangely gentle. "But I will do my best, for every sentient being on this planet." He looked directly at the camera. "Megatron and the Decepticons have caused so much pain and suffering already. They must be stopped if we are to have peace on this planet."

Optimus Prime immediately began reworking everything. He ceded direct control of the Primal Defense Forces to skilled military commanders. He loosened control on basic news information, insisting that people should be able to raise concerns about their government without fear of reprisal or being censored. (That explained the change in what the news was reporting, Bluestreak guessed.) A few days after taking office, he revealed that the extent of the energon crisis was far worse than Sentinel had made it out to be, and there would be no easy fixes. And finally the new Prime extended an offer of a good-will to Megatron: an offer to talk.

The talk was done behind closed doors, via holo, rather than face-to-face. Only the Prime's most trusted advisors were allowed into the room with him: Alpha Trion, the Prime's sponsor in his rise to leadership; Ironhide, the head of military operations for the Autobots; and Halogen, who had been Sentinel's second in command.

The talk lasted for two days straight. When Optimus Prime and his advisors emerged, they looked solemn. "It saddens me that, while we both agree that changes are needed to how Cybertron is managed and governed, we have very different visions for what that new Cybertron looks like." Optimus bowed his helm as he spoke to the news bots. "Megatron seeks only to destroy those who do not align themselves with him. He seeks absolute control, and there is no room in his vision for our fellow organic Cybertronians or for alternate points of view. While peaceful dissent must always be possible, I cannot stand by and let a despot take over our planet."

Megatron's reaction to the talk was strangely similar, but his tone couldn't have been more different. "The Autobots and their new Prime are **weak**!" he roared to a cheering crowd. "Their way will result in Cybertron simply falling back into the same ruts, with the same problems, with the same weaknesses! Follow me, and we will take back Cybertron! Follow me, and we will show the galaxy that Cybertron is only for mechs forged of it, not for alien invaders who use our energon and crowd our cities!" The crowd cheered, and Megatron smiled broadly before raising his voice again. "In Praxus, we have shown what the Decepticons are capable of, that any who stand in our way will be crushed beneath us! Follow me, and-"

Bluestreak jabbed his finger into the datapad to stop the video. He'd heard enough.

"Glad to see you're up."

Bluestreak's helm snapped up, and he saw Prowl standing next to his berth. "Slag, Prowl! I didn't even see you come in." He leaned upwards into Prowl's kiss, then smiled at the white and black mech as he settled into his seat. "Yeah, the nurse said it would do me good to sit up for a while."

Prowl's optics focused on Bluestreak's chest for a moment, then his left sensor wing. "The wax they're putting on your burns really seems to be helping," he said. "Your plating looks a lot better than when..." Prowl hesitated momentarily. "It looks much better than it did before."

"Really?" Bluestreak looked down at his chest, and at the rippled, uneven surface of his hood. "I was just thinking it looked pretty awful." He looked back up at Prowl, who wore a sad expression. "I must have looked really bad when I first got here, then." When Prowl nodded, he added, "The nurse said that my colour nanites might have been damaged. I hope I don't end up looking ugly."

Prowl's sensor wings trembled, then stilled when he pulled a vent cycle. He took Bluestreak's hand in his and smiled. "You'll always look handsome to me, love, no matter your paint," he said.

"Thanks," Bluestreak said. He almost tried to send Prowl a little burst of gratitude and love, but stopped himself before finding that empty space in his spark again. Even still, he felt an ache of loss, and he gently pressed his free hand to his chest.

Then he hissed in pain as his plating stung where he touched it.

"That was dumb," Bluestreak muttered. "We were **just** talking about the burns, and-"

"They'll heal soon enough," Prowl said reassuringly. He glanced down at the datapads laying on the berth beside Bluestreak. "So what had you so engrossed when I came in?"

"I was just reading the news," Bluestreak said. He grabbed the pad with the news and flicked it back on, skimming past the articles of the riots to get off-planet. "Looks like I missed a lot while I was offline." He flicked the pad off again and looked back up at Prowl. "But how have you been spending your time, outside of visiting hours?"

Prowl leaned back in his chair, glancing up as another visitor walked past them towards a berth further down the ward. "I went back to visit my old precinct. They've been seconded to the Autobot forces." He grimaced. "I never thought that would happen."

"They turned Enforcers over to the military?" Bluestreak asked, his optics wide. When Prowl nodded, he said, "Wow. I'm glad that you're out of there now." His voice suddenly lost power as he remembered why Prowl wasn't in the Iacon Enforcers anymore, and why Prowl was suddenly out of a job.

Actually, they **both** were out of a job.

They were both out of a job, and a home... And so many other things.

_Frag._

Bluestreak glanced down at his chest, and at the bubbled remains of his paint. It felt like a visual representation of everything they'd both lost in Praxus.

He closed his optics and tried not to see his mentors' faces.

After a minute, Bluestreak realized that Prowl hadn't replied. When he looked back up at Prowl, his bond mate looked pensive. "You know," Bluestreak said, trying to fill the sudden, unexpected silence between them. Now that he couldn't feel what was happening in Prowl's spark, Bluestreak found that Prowl's subtle expressions were harder to read. "I mean that it's good that you weren't forced to join the military when they got turned over to the Autobots."

"They weren't **forced** into the military, Blue. They all had the choice, and all of them joined voluntarily." Prowl's sensor wings dipped, just slightly, but enough for Bluestreak to notice. "I spent a long time last night talking to Streetwise about it," Prowl said. "He said a lot of things that made sense."

"Like what?" Bluestreak asked. He wished he could sense Prowl's emotions; the white and black mech's face gave away no trace of what he was feeling.

Prowl slowly leaned forward and took Bluestreak's hand again. "I'm not asking you to do this alongside me," he said. "But I think I want to join the Autobots."

Bluestreak stared at Prowl for a moment, not sure if he'd heard him correctly. "You want to fight?" he asked. "For the Prime?"

Prowl shook his helm. "Not for the Prime," he said. "But for Cybertron. For the organics that still live here. For the mechs of Praxus. For our families." He gestured at the data pad that was forgotten on Bluestreak's lap. "You saw the things that Megatron has done. He asks mechs to join him, using his charisma and playing to their fears. If they don't come to his side, he retaliates with violence." His sensor wings swiveled upwards, and his voice hardened. "That's what he did to Praxus, and with every city-state the Decepticons have occupied. Streetwise has told me some of the stories of mechs who fled from places like Kaon, and the horrors they endured." Prowl held Bluestreak's hand a little tighter in his and added, "I can't sit by and let that happen."

"But..." Bluestreak had to reset his vocalizer twice before he could speak clearly. "But you'll be fighting against Barricade."

Prowl closed his optics as a mask of grief settled over his expression. "I know," he said quietly. "Trust me, I know." When he opened his optics again, they were filled with pooled coolant. "But I'm going to lose him anyway, when the bond is reset. And if we don't fight back, we could lose our world to a tyrant." Prowl peered into Bluestreak's face, tipping his sensor wings upwards. "I cannot stand by and do nothing."

"You'll be fighting for the Prime, Prowl," Bluestreak grated out. He remembered the pompous speeches that Sentinel had made. While they had enraged Barricade, they had irritated Bluestreak and disappointed Prowl. "You'll be fighting for the same system that started this whole thing by shutting down Vector Sigma."

Prowl shrugged slightly. "It's not the same Prime," he said. "Not at all. Streetwise told me about the new Prime. He's not like Sentinel. He listens. He considers others' opinions. He came down and talked to the street units in the precinct, **in person** , to thank them for helping the Autobot cause. And when the lieutenant suggested that the street units could be used for patrolling the outer perimeter of Iacon, to take the load off of the military, Optimus Prime agreed and made the change on the spot." Prowl smiled. "It was a good, tactically sound suggestion, and freed up the heavier military members for other missions. Street units like us are better suited to that type of duty. I might have made the suggestion myself if I'd been there."

"So he's a good mech. You still don't have to fight! Maybe we could just... Maybe we could just leave! I saw the riots about ships and getting off-planet but maybe we could manage to get passage on one, even a slow freighter, and get off Cybertron," Bluestreak said. Even as Prowl started shaking his helm, Bluestreak barreled on. "We could offer our services; I mean, you would probably be good at navigation, and I could... I don't know, help with rations or something, maybe even help move cargo or just work in the engine room for passage and-"

"Blue." Prowl's quiet voice cut through Bluestreak's babbling with one word. "There **are** no ships. There is no way off planet. Not anymore." When Bluestreak opened his mouth to protest, Prowl laid a finger over Bluestreak's lips. "The last ship got away a week ago. There are no more gate-capable ships on Cybertron or in orbit."

"Maybe one will come. Maybe there's one inbound right now and we just don't know," Bluestreak said frantically. "Maybe we just need to wait and then we can get on that next one and-" When Prowl shook his helm once more, Bluestreak felt all of his anxiety and fear and worry bubble to the surface in a wave. He unconsciously lunched towards the comfort of his trinemates in his spark, and reeled when he touched that empty spot inside him.

He keened softly, mourning the losses he'd experienced already and the ones he feared would come.

Bluestreak slowly realized that Prowl was on the bed beside him, his arms carefully wrapped around Bluestreak. Prowl was gently kissing the side of his helm. 

"Oh, Prowl, my light, I can't. I just can't," Bluestreak sobbed. "I can't feel Barricade, and I can't feel you, and it **hurts**. Barricade is gone. I can't lose you, too."

Prowl paused with his lips pressed against Bluestreak's chevron. Then he pulled back and tipped Bluestreak's chin up to look him in the optics. "If you truly don't want me to join the Autobots, I won't," Prowl said quietly. "You are more important to me than anything. And trust me... When I felt the bond break, when you almost died..." Prowl's voice crackled into static for a moment. "I was terrified that I'd lost you. The only thing that kept me level was seeing with my own optics that you were still alive." He kissed Bluestreak. "And I know I sprung that on you suddenly. I'm sorry for that. But give it some thought." Prowl rubbed his thumb down Bluestreak's cheek, collecting a drip of coolant. "Think about your mentors, and mine. They are dead now because of what the Decepticons did. They **have** to be stopped."

The Decepticons. Barricade. Praxus.

Slag, he wished he could feel Prowl.

But he remembered Prowl's sense of loyalty, and of duty. Prowl craved being useful. He needed to serve. He loved being needed. It made sense that, after losing everything that they had – their families, their jobs, their home – Prowl would seek out something that would help him find the things he craved in his life again.

The Autobots would provide all of that for Prowl.

Slowly Bluestreak nodded. "Let me think about it," he said. He managed a small smile. "I already had one bond mate rush off to join a cause. I don't know if I have the tanks to deal with you doing the same thing."

That got a quiet laugh from Prowl, and he kissed Bluestreak again. "Don't worry," Prowl said.  
"I promise not to rush off and join any cause without your blessing."

* * *

The third time Bluestreak was bonded, there were no songs or celebration. There was no feasting, unless you count the medical-grade fuel he'd been given. There was no privacy provided for after their bond had been reformed, only discretely pulled curtains surrounding Bluestreak's berth in the crowded medical ward. The only witness to Bluestreak and Prowl reestablishing their bond was a doctor, hovering to ensure that the bonding did not cause Bluestreak's spark to start pulsing arrhythmically again.

And while Bluestreak's first two bondings were associated with feelings of anticipation and joy, the only emotions he was feeling now were a desperate need to fill one of the holes in his spark, and a deep-rooted grief that they were both about to lose their last connection to Barricade.

Bluestreak sat upright in his berth, supported by pillows and a brace to support his sensor wings. In preparation for reestablishing their bond, the analgesic programs he'd been on to dull the pain from his broken bonds had been backed off. His spark throbbed in agony, a reminder of the connections that had been ripped away from him.

To distract himself, he glanced down at his chest. His burns were healing nicely, although it was becoming clear that the colour nanites in his chest plating would never hold a bright silver again. He brushed his fingers down his chest, happy that the motion didn't cause stinging pain like it had the past week or so. "I remember that Praxus statute about getting your bond mate's permission to change your colour," he said. "So what do you think about a dark grey for my chest?" Bluestreak looked up at Prowl and smiled wanly. "I think that's the only colour my nanites are going to be able to hold now."

Prowl sat next to him, facing him on the berth, his hand resting on Bluestreak's thigh. "That's fine with me," Prowl said. "I'm just glad you'll be able to hold any colour at all. Protoform grey would look..." As Prowl's voice trailed off, his sensor wings dipped.

Bluestreak nodded. "I know," he said quietly. Protoform grey would make him look like he was half dead.

Triage finished fiddling with the monitor he had set up on the other side of the berth, and reset his vocalizer noisily. "I'm all ready here," he said, and looked at Prowl. "I'll need to reset your bonds first, then you can reestablish your bond with Bluestreak immediately." He held up a medical instrument and added, "Once your bond is reestablished I'll add the pain patch back in for both of you."

"Give the pain patch to Bluestreak first," Prowl said firmly.

Triage nodded. "All right." He looked between them for a moment. "I'll step outside the curtain here for a minute to let you get ready. Just let me know when you're ready to start."

"Thank you," Bluestreak replied. As soon as Triage stepped through the curtain, Bluestreak laid his hand flat against Prowl's chest. "Can you still feel him?" he whispered.

Prowl nodded, and covered Bluestreak's hand with his own. "The same as before. Faint, unless there's something strong." He fixed his optics on Bluestreak's. "He must think you're dead, Blue. After the attack, when your bonds were severed... All I got from him was guilt and grief and rage." He shook his helm. "I haven't felt anything distinct from him since."

Bluestreak stared at Prowl's chest, as if he could see his spark, and see the tenuous quantum connection that still linked him with Barricade. "Before you get reset, can you... Can you try to send him my love?" He pressed his hand harder against Prowl's chest. "Can you send him how much I miss him?" Bluestreak's voice crackled with static.

Bluestreak didn't even realize he'd started crying until he felt a drip of liquid trail down his cheek. He glanced up as Prowl wiped it away. "I'll try," Prowl said softly. "But I'm still so angry with him, Blue..." Prowl's sensor wings drooped down below his shoulders. "I can't be sure what he'll receive."

Bluestreak nodded. There were no secrets between bond mates, after all. "Just try, please. For me. And then..." He drew a shuddering vent. "And then I need you back, Prowl. I need you here, with me again." He knocked his knuckles against his own gnarled chest plating, and felt a sharp twinge of pain from his spark. Even when he wasn't trying to touch the place where his bonds used to be, he sometimes did it by accident. "Please. I need my light."

Prowl nodded. "I need you too, Blue," he whispered. Then he closed his optics. A dozen different emotions flashed across Prowl's face, finally ending with him knitting his brow ridges in concentration. When he opened his optics again, they were dim. "I sent him what I could," he said. "I don't know what he got but... I tried."

Bluestreak pulled Prowl's helm down to his, and kissed the center of Prowl's chevron. "Thank you." After a final look into Prowl's optics, he raised his helm. "We're ready, Doctor Triage," Bluestreak called.

Triage pushed the curtain aside and stood beside the monitor again. His face held no judgement over their tear-streaked faces, but he got right to work. He connected to Prowl's medical port, then placed his hand on Prowl's shoulder. "I'm going to reset your bonds now. Are you ready?" he asked. When Prowl nodded, he said, "In three... Two... One..."

Bluestreak knew the instant Prowl's bond with Barricade was broken. His optics flared white, then he shuttered them tightly. He bared his dentae as a low moan whined from his vocalizer.

Bluestreak's spark spun in tormented sympathy. "I'm here, Prowl," Bluestreak said, grabbing Prowl's hand. "I'm right here."

Triage finished disconnecting from Prowl's medical port, then gently flipped Prowl's wrist over to expose his data cable housing. "Go ahead and link up to your mate," Triage said. He watched as Prowl shakily pulled his cables free. "Let me know if you need help. You can run the bonding sequence as soon as you're connected."

"I can do it," Bluestreak said. He plugged his own cables into Prowl's medical port, then took Prowl's cables from his hand and inserted them into his own port. On the other side of the data connection, Prowl's presence grew: strictly data and statuses, but they spoke of a spark in pain and a processor in strange and unfamiliar disarray.

Bluestreak launched the bonding sequence, and almost simultaneously received the request from Prowl's systems. Bluestreak approved every request as soon as it appeared on his HUD, and then-

And then, suddenly, he was no longer alone.

Bluestreak sobbed with relief as he recognized the presence in his spark. It was devoted and faithful, vigilant and determined. His spark twirled unevenly for a moment, and the machine at his berthside made an alarming bleeping noise. But then Bluestreak's spark settled as it found that one of the aching wounds he had been living for with weeks was now healed and whole again.

And then Bluestreak's engine whined as he parsed all of the emotions he was receiving from his bond mate.

Grief. Pain. Anger. Determination. Anguish. Relief.

And love.

"Primus, Prowl," Bluestreak gasped once we was able to find his voice again. "I missed you so much."

Prowl said nothing, but only wrapped his arms around Bluestreak and held him tightly. His frame shook.

Bluestreak was only dimly aware of Triage speaking, something about cables. But then Bluestreak felt a pressure at his medical port, disconnecting Prowl's cables and plugging in a new one. A moment later he felt the pain of his remaining severed bond fade, back to the dull throb it had been for most of his stay in the medical ward.

He could also feel when the doctor disconnected his cables from Prowl, and through the newly reestablished bond he felt the pain in Prowl's spark fade. Prowl's frame relaxed under Bluestreak's arms and Bluestreak let himself sag back into the pillows, Prowl's weight creating a comforting blanket over his chest and upper legs.

He had Prowl back in his spark.

"No interfacing, like I explained." Triage's voice roused Bluestreak enough for him to open his optics and look up at the doctor. "Your frame is still healing, and your spark isn't up to that type of exertion yet. But most bond reestablishments I've overseen don't have that compulsion, not like a new bond." Triage smiled at Bluestreak, then patted the machine he'd been monitoring. "This will let me know if you have any spark irregularities overnight. In the meantime, I've let the night nurse know Prowl can stay, just for tonight." He paused just before slipping past the curtain and quietly added, "It's good to have some happy news for a change."

Then they were alone.

Prowl moved until he was curled at Bluestreak's side, still pressing his face into the cables of Bluestreak's neck. Bluestreak could feel Prowl settling, a long-standing fatigue creeping up on him. Over the newly recreated bond, Bluestreak got the sense of lonely nights, anxious mornings, and a constant worry that Prowl had been living with for weeks. Now that their bond had been reestablished, Prowl was letting the exhaustion take over. "I love you so much, Blue," Prowl whispered. "Barricade was so far away, and you were gone and..." His arm tightened around Bluestreak's waist. "I can't even explain how relieved I am."

"You don't have to explain," Bluestreak said. "I can feel it."

How wonderful it was that he could feel Prowl again. Even with the pain suspended in both of their sparks, it felt so good to have Prowl's existence twined with his own once more.

Prowl's hand drifted up Bluestreak's waist, then hovered over his bubbled chest plating. "You're in so much pain," Prowl said, concern washing over the bond. He turned his helm to look into Bluestreak's optics. "I thought you said you were feeling better."

"I am," Bluestreak said. "Every day the pain eases a bit more." He smiled, and sent Prowl as much reassurance as he could gather. "I've chatted a little with the mechs in the berths near me. I just had some burns. Some of them were damaged a lot worse."

Prow's engine rumbled. The concern he was broadcasting became threaded with anger and grief again. "So many mechs injured, but they were the lucky ones. Millions dead in Praxus. My mentors, yours..." Even though Prowl was keeping his volume low in deference to the mechs just beyond the curtain surrounding the berth, his words became clipped and sharp. "Bonds ripped apart. A city destroyed. A planet divided. And for **what**?" His optics, as beautiful and icy blue as ever, focused on Bluestreak's. "They have to be stopped before this goes any further. We can't let Megatron have his way."

Bluestreak looked at Prowl. His bond mate (his **bond mate** , oh Primus, he was still reveling in the comfort and joy of having another presence with him in his spark again) felt determined and resolute. "You really want to join the Autobots?" Bluestreak asked, his voice barely audible even to himself. "You **really** want to fight? Against Barricade?"

"Barricade chose his road," Prowl said. He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I want to fight to save our way of life. I want to do whatever I can to oppose **anything** that Megatron wishes. And if that means fighting with the Autobots... against Barricade... then so be it." Prowl's certain tone was echoed over the bond.

Bluestreak eased himself back into the cushions again and closed his optics. He was exhausted, and his fatigue was matched by Prowl's. It was obvious that Prowl hadn't been recharging enough. But even through his tiredness, Bluestreak thought about Prowl's words.

Everyone they knew in Praxus was dead. Their families. Everyone they'd loved.

Almost everyone, anyway.

And the Deceptions had done that. All of those deaths could be laid at Megatron's pedes... And, by extension, at Barricade's.

Bluestreak opened his mouth, about to ask Prowl whether he was sure he could lift a weapon against Barricade if it came to that. But just as he was about to speak, he realized that Prowl had slipped into recharge, curled up against Bluestreak's side, his helm resting on Bluestreak's shoulder.

Bluestreak let his helm fall back onto the pillow and brushed gently against the healed bond, soothing both himself and Prowl.

He could ask Prowl his question later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Bluestreak's chest is a dark grey (as opposed to the rest of his paint being silver) because of the injuries he sustained in Praxus is not original. I remember reading it in another fic a long time ago, and the idea stuck with me. It just made so much sense to my muse. I think it was a story about Bluestreak being pulled from the rubble of Praxus as a youngling, but I can't remember exactly. (There might even be a few fics I've read it in.) So thank you to those author(s) for putting the idea in my head! ❤


	28. Scenes from a War, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl have joined the Autobots.

The tech lifted the welding torch away from Bluestreak's plating, and grabbed ahold of the mount he'd just attached to Bluestreak's substructure. "That should do it," Hexwrench said, giving it a firm tug. "How's it feel?"

Bluestreak shifted his shoulders, shrugging them up and down and wiggling from side to side. "They feel heavy," he said.

Hexwrench set aside the torch and picked up some new parts. "Everyone says that at first," he said as he started attaching the cannon barrels to the new mounts on Bluestreak's shoulders. "But those are the lightest mounts we've got for cannons of this caliber." He huffed slightly. "I really wish they'd stop assigning smaller frames like yours to Artillery."

Bluestreak turned his helm, watching the tech finish attaching the right cannon. It was going to be weird having that thing in his peripheral vision. "They said that with my aptitude scores, Artillery was the best place for me," he said.

Hexwrench stopped working long enough to look Bluestreak in the optics. "Let me guess," he said. "You were good at ballistics calculations so they decided to throw a set of cannons on you."

Bluestreak frowned. "Well, I actually scored well in ballistics **and** in sharpshooting." He waited as Hexwrench paused for another moment before going back to work with a grunt. Bluestreak grimaced as Hexwrench tightened down the cannon with a strut-shuddering screeching sound before he started to work on the other. "But anyway, during Basic training they said that you just had to go where they needed you. It's not like I had a choice." Bluestreak tried to keep the resignation out of his voice.

"Well, that's true," Hexwrench said. He shook his helm as he continued to work on the second cannon, grunting as he tightened another bolt. "And to be honest Artillery isn't a bad place to be. At least their survival rate tends to be higher than, say, Infantry."

Bluestreak said nothing to that. Several of the mechs he and Prowl had gone through Basic with had been assigned to Infantry. For example, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had been selected for that division even before they had officially graduated. Bluestreak hoped he got to see them again.

Prowl brushed the bond questioningly, and Bluestreak buried his melancholy enough to send him back reassurance. He didn't want to worry Prowl. After all, they'd both signed up for this voluntarily.

Pretty much, anyway.

Back in the hospital in Iacon, Bluestreak had thought about Prowl's desire to join the Autobots for another week after their bond had been reestablished. He read the news, and the reports coming from the frontlines. He chatted with the nurses who came to tend his burns, and with the mechs in the berths near his.

And he listened to Prowl, who grew more and more determined every day to join the Autobots. But...

"I won't join if you really don't want me to," Prowl had said one night, just before visiting hours were over. They'd spent the last hour bickering over joining, and they were both fed up. Prowl leaned back in his chair, radiating disappointment and frustration. "But I just feel so useless doing nothing."

Bluestreak had leaned back in the pillows and closed his optics, gently brushing his attention across the bond. He could feel how much Prowl wanted to join the Autobots. Prowl wanted to make the Decepticons pay for what they had done to Praxus. To Prowl, the best way to do that was to join the Autobots and help them fight, and Bluestreak conceded that Prowl was probably right. Plus, as was occasionally the way with strong bonds where both partners agreed on a goal, Prowl's desire to join them was slowly eroding Bluestreak's resistance to the idea.

"Maybe..." Bluestreak heaved a vent. "Maybe I could find a job as a support staff. Or help with logistics. After all, I've done that job for centuries. I'd probably be pretty good at it."

He opened his optics and saw Prowl staring at him. Prowl's sensor wings trembled behind him. "Really?" When Bluestreak nodded, Prowl leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," Prowl whispered into Bluestreak's audial.

Except when Bluestreak was released from the hospital, his burns finally healed and his spark no longer in constant pain, he found that the positions he was interested in had already been filled by other mechs who were also reluctant to pick up a weapon. "We actually have a waiting list for the civilian support positions," the recruiter had said, tapping away at her screen. She looked up and smiled apologetically. "But there are always openings in all of the combat positions. I could get you both into a Basic training camp next week."

The disappointment he was feeling from Prowl, combined with Bluestreak's eagerness to finally be doing something, was probably what tipped his decision in the direction it went. Even millennia later, after the memories blurred and details were lost, Bluestreak clearly remembered coming to a sudden and firm resolution.

"Then sign us up for Basic training. Both of us." Bluestreak looked at Prowl as he felt a shock of surprise from his mate, and smiled. "I know you want to join," he said, taking Prowl's hand in his. "And if this is the only way for you to get your wish, and for me to stay close to you, then I'm all in." He squeezed Prowl's hand. "Besides, Praxus was my city too. I get it. I understand."

The flood of gratitude over the bond almost washed away the feeling of dread in Bluestreak's spark.

Almost.

"All right, all done." Hexwrench tapped a few icons on the monitor that was hooked into Bluestreak's data port. "And your new targeting programs are all loaded. You should see your new status indicators on your HUD."

Bluestreak nodded. "Yes, I see them," he said. He quickly reorganized his internal display to accommodate the new indicators. "I'll run through the tutorials tonight, I guess."

"Whatever. There's not much to them." The tech turned around to face him again and crossed his arms over his chest. "Find the new commands for positioning. Run the command to stow the cannons, then redeploy them," Hexwrench said. "Let me know if anything feels off."

At Bluestreak's command, the cannons folded backwards into a cavity in his shoulders, neatly stowing themselves. Then he reversed the process, watching as they folded out and arrayed themselves beside his helm. "Feels pretty good, aside from the extra weight," he said.

Hexwrench nodded, and slapped a few more icons on his monitor. "You'll get used to it. Or you won't and bad things'll happen." He shrugged. "But I did my part." Hexwrench gestured at the doorway. "The medical track is through there. I need you to do three laps running, seven laps driving. Make sure to hit some bumps while you're driving, and stow and redeploy the cannons a few times in each mode. If anything comes loose or feels bad, come back in to see me. Otherwise, I've put an appointment in your schedule for next week to come back for adjustments."

"Thank you," Bluestreak said, climbing off of the medical berth.

Hexwrench just grunted in reply and turned back to his console.

There were only a few other mechs on the medical track, most of them moving very carefully, obviously nursing recently repaired injuries. Bluestreak opted to do his running laps first, so he started jogging around the inside of the track in the lane specified for that purpose.

The extra weight on his frame was distracting, but it didn't seem to be affecting his energy levels or fuel consumption much. The upgraded motors and hydraulic systems they'd installed in him after he'd been assigned to Artillery seemed to be doing their jobs, even if everything in his body felt strange and extra heavy now. It reminded him of when he'd received his adult upgrades, making him taller and wider. He'd felt awkward then, too.

And of course thinking of receiving his upgrades reminded him of his mentors again, and he felt a well of grief begin to bubble to the surface. Bluestreak pushed all of those emotions down before they could flood over the bond to Prowl. He was also sure to avoid touching the raw void of where Barricade used to be in his spark. He occasionally caught himself worrying at the hole absently, then startling himself (and sometimes Prowl) with a fresh jolt of pain.

They were both still hurting from that open wound in their sparks. While they both felt differently towards their missing bond mate – Prowl reacting with anger and Bluestreak with grief – they both keenly felt as though something was missing in their lives. Bluestreak had mused on the feeling of something missing after a particularly rough day of Basic training, as they took advantage of an empty corner of the mess hall. They slumped against each other tiredly, each slowly drinking their fuel ration. "It feels like I've had a limb removed," Bluestreak had complained after finishing his cube. "I knew that a broken bond would hurt but..." He shook his helm. "I wasn't expecting this feeling of... Of missing something tangible."

Prowl said nothing for a moment. His helm rested on Bluestreak's shoulder and his optics were closed, but Bluestreak could feel him thinking. Then Prowl chuckled softly. "It's because we're missing our spark," he said.

"What?" Bluestreak asked, confused.

Prowl sat up to look at Bluestreak. His optics were dim from exhaustion, but Bluestreak could feel a streak of dark humour running through the bond. "That silly superstition. I'm the mind, you're the body..."

"And Cade was our spark," Bluestreak had murmured. Then he smiled. "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff."

With a shrug, Prowl had put his helm back down on Bluestreak's shoulder. "I don't really," he said. "But you and Barricade did, so..." He trailed off and did not complete his sentence.

On the track, Bluestreak carefully navigated his thoughts away from anything to do with Barricade, as hard as that was to do sometimes.

He stowed and redeployed his new cannons once to distract himself as he ran.

While Bluestreak had been assigned to Artillery, Prowl had been assigned to Strategy and Analysis. Or rather, as soon as they discovered that he had a specialization certificate in tactical and strategic science, they practically kidnapped him from Basic training. Fortunately, Sergeant Kup put his pede down and refused to release Prowl until he'd graduated.

"I don't care how much you need him," Kup had yelled at the captain. Prowl had been standing just outside the office door and heard every word, which he'd then relayed to Bluestreak later. "I am not releasing a freshly-painted recruit from Basic until he's at least learned the **basics**. That's why they call it **Basic** training, you know?" Kup's fury had been evident in his tone, even without seeing him. "I don't care if he's gonna be in an office for his whole career! He needs to be able to fire a weapon without hurting himself and his comrades, and he needs to know how to defend himself if our base gets overrun. Unless you're fine with your tactical team being captured and tortured for every byte of data in their processors? No? Then give **me** a chance to give **him** a fighting chance."

So Prowl stayed in Basic alongside Bluestreak, and was only reassigned to Strategy and Analysis after they'd both graduated.

Fortunately, being bonded meant that they were more likely to be assigned to the same places. It wasn't a guarantee, but under Optimus Prime bonded mates tended to be looked at as a single unit. They had both been warned that it was very possible they might be separated due to operational requirements, but for now they could stay together. They were both intensely grateful for that.

As soon as their class was released, they were both shipped off to Rodion together. Prowl was thrown into his new role as a junior tactician for the Autobots, while Bluestreak had his frame modified over the course of several weeks, culminating in being outfitted with large cannons.

Heavy, large cannons.

After running three laps, Bluestreak transformed and switched to the outside lane of the track. He remembered Hexwrench's directions to hit some bumps, so he swerved a few times to throw a tire into the potholes that pockmarked the track's surface. He wondered if they were there on purpose, or whether the track had just been neglected since the start of the war.

Either way, the jarring impact of each hole on his suspension was uncomfortable, but he didn't feel anything come loose in his new armaments.

After he had driven five laps, he received a ping from Prowl, indicating that he was done with his shift. Bluestreak deployed and stowed his cannons again before opening a comm line. "Hey, Prowl! How did it go today?"

"The day simply flew by! It's very interesting work. I wish I could tell you about it." Prowl's voice was even, but Bluestreak felt a touch of actual regret over the bond. "But everything I was working on today was classified."

"That's all right," Bluestreak replied. He was intensely curious about the work that Prowl was doing, but that was another one of the necessary compromises: now that they were in different divisions, they both had things they might not be able to tell the other. "I'm just finishing up my laps on the medical track. I should be done soon."

From Prowl came a wash of curiosity. "I'll come over there and meet you," he said. "You've told me so much about the different types of cannons. I'm interested in seeing them! Then we can drive to the mess hall together. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"All right. See you then, Prowl," Bluestreak said. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Prowl disconnected the comm.

By the time Bluestreak was finishing his last lap, he saw his white and black bond mate standing beside the track. Bluestreak exited the track and drove over towards Prowl, transforming and running the last few steps. As he approached Prowl, he deployed the cannons on his shoulders and paused, posing with his hand on his hip. "So?" he asked, his voice strangely uneven. "What do you think?"

Until he actually asked the question, Bluestreak hadn't realized how nervous he had been about asking it.

After all, he did look quite different now. Never mind the fact that his chest was now a dark grey, an artifact of the burns he had received in Praxus. But ever since being assigned to Artillery, they had been making incremental changes to his frame to prepare it for his new weaponry. His shoulders were broader now, almost as broad as Barricade's had been. His frame was heavier, his civilian plating replaced with reinforced armor. The cannons were just the last step.

He knew it was silly to be worried, but for some reason he wondered whether Prowl still liked what he saw when he looked at Bluestreak now.

But as soon as he asked the question, Bluestreak smiled. The wave of affection and interest from Prowl was almost tangible. "You look different," Prowl admitted honestly. "But your optics are still the same." His gaze swept over Bluestreak's frame, skimming over his broad sensor wings. "You still wear your bonding stripes, so that's the same." He stepped closer and took Bluestreak's hands in his. "Your touch is still the same. And I'm sure that..." He leaned in to kiss Bluestreak, then gazed at him with a fond smile. "Yes, your kiss is still the same." He ran a hand down Bluestreak's cheek. "You're still my Blue."

"Thanks, Prowl," Bluestreak said softly, letting his relief shine through their bond. He tipped his helm to the side, pressing his cheek into Prowl's hand. "I don't know why I let myself worry about these things."

"I don't think I'll ever not find you handsome," Prowl said. The interest he was broadcasting over the bond increased, coloured with curiosity and excitement. He lowered his voice. "But maybe... We could go find that storage room again, before we refuel," he murmured, tapping his helm crest against Bluestreak's. He caressed the center of Bluestreak's chest, and his fingers trailed down towards one of Bluestreak's headlights. "I think I need to review all of the details regarding what they've changed about your frame."

Bluestreak laughed, unconsciously arching into Prowl's touch. The barracks in Rodion were anything but private: twenty mechs to a room, with berths packed in as tight as they could manage. Although not condoned by the army's leadership, the base's nooks and crannies had quickly become places where a couple or a quick hookup could find a few minutes alone. Bluestreak and Prowl had found one such place on the far end of the base, near the artillery range.

On the minus side, the storage room where extra targets and other equipment was stored was anything but quiet, as it was frequently rocked by explosions and the sound of gunfire. On the plus side, it was a maze of boxes that two mechs could get lost in, and the sound from the artillery range covered any sounds they happened to make.

"That sounds like fun," Bluestreak said with a smile. He grabbed Prowl's hand and led him to the outer door of the medical track. As soon as they got outside, he turned to face Prowl. "But I'll bet I could get there first." As Prowl tipped his sensor wings upwards questioningly, Bluestreak transformed and pealed out, heading towards the artillery range.

Bluestreak lost the bet, as Prowl easily sped past Bluestreak's heavy reinforced frame. But Prowl made it up to Bluestreak twice: once with his spike and again with his mouth.


	29. Scenes from a War, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak comes face-to-face with a Decepticon for the first time.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol.

Actually, to be honest it wasn't even supposed to be a proper patrol. The base at Rodion was well inside Autobot territory, and there were **real** combat patrols further out, looking for any sign of Decepticon activity. But with thousands of mechs on the base, all fresh out of Basic training and waiting to be deployed across the planet on missions and for new assignments to come up, there was a need to keep them busy until they could receive their orders. So the local leadership set up patrols of two mechs each, giving them a standard route to follow.

The 'scenic tours,' as the patrols were nicknamed by the troops, usually consisted of a few laps around the perimeter of the base, and a jaunt down one of trails that crisscrossed the landscape around Rodion. Before the war, it had been a popular place for mechs to go for off-road drives; now, it was a maze of canyons and blind turns that could potentially hide anything.

Not that anyone ever found anything, that is.

That day, on their routine patrol, Bluestreak and Cliffjumper were slowly navigating the narrow bends of the Catalytic Canyon. The canyon's walls of stone and metal rose high above them, and their vision was limited to only as far as the next bend in the trail.

Bluestreak loved the canyons. He knew that if he had been a bit lighter on his wheels, he would have enjoyed racing through the canyon's turns. When he described them in detail to Prowl (who was never assigned to go on the scenic tours, as he was always needed in his department to crunch through some scenarios), the two of them agreed that it was the kind of place that Barricade would have loved.

The canyons were overflown by aerials on heavy rotation, scanning for any movement that was not an Autobot. So to be honest, they had both let their guard down a bit.

All right, they'd let their guard down a **lot**. But who could have blamed them? This patrol was probably the tenth time both of them had driven down this particular trail. It was the end of their shift. They were both a bit punchy from boredom.

As they came up on yet another bend in the trail, Cliffjumper swerved in front of Bluestreak for the sixth time that patrol, forcing Bluestreak to brake hard. "Sensors up!" Cliffjumper called. "Straightaway's just ahead. Want to race to the end of it?"

Bluestreak revved his engine when he recovered from his quick skid on the loose surface of the trail. "If you want," Bluestreak said. "But you know that you're way faster than me, and I'm sure that you'll-"

Before Bluestreak could say anything further, Cliffjumper beeped his horn and accelerated. His tires spun gravel up onto Bluestreak. "Catch you at the end, slow poke!" A moment later, Cliffjumper vanished around the bend leading to the straightaway.

Bluestreak revved his engine again, this time in frustration, and accelerated to follow Cliffjumper. His pickup was definitely not as fast as it used to be, mostly because of his increased weight. Over the three months since he'd officially been placed on duty, his engine had slowly been retuned for endurance instead of speed. The change to his powerdrive helped him better carry his heavier frame, but it meant that there was no way for him to catch up with a lightweight minibot like Cliffjumper who was driving at top speed.

In fact, by the time Bluestreak came around the bend, Cliffjumper was already halfway down the straightaway. The walls of the canyon widened slightly at this point, and the sounds of their engines created ghostly echoes around them. Bluestreak poured on as much speed as he could, but he knew he'd never catch up.

But to be honest, that didn't really matter. It felt good to just open up his engine like this, like he used to do on the racetrack with Barricade. There was a recreational track on the base; Bluestreak wondered whether Prowl would have any interest in joining him for a race once in a while. He was pretty sure he could convince him, one way or another.

Ahead of him, Cliffjumper vanished around the next bend. Bluestreak's audio sensors picked up a shout and the clatter of tires on loose stone. He guessed that Cliffjumper had probably taken the turn too quickly and skidded. Served him right. Bluestreak just hoped the minibot hadn't careened into a wall and damaged himself again; that would be really hard to explain to their sergeant.

"If you damaged yourself with your stupid racing stunt, I'm not going to help bail you out this time," Bluestreak called as he finally reached the corner and drove through it, much more carefully than Cliffjumper had. "I don't want to have to spend another shift scrubbing the mess hall floors just because you-"

Bluestreak had expected to see Cliffjumper's tail lights disappearing around the canyon's next bend. Instead, he saw the minibot grappling with a larger mech, a lightweight racing frame with a purple Decepticon brand emblazoned on his shoulder armor. Just as Bluestreak screeched to a halt, the other mech got a grip on Cliffjumper's arms and slammed his helm into Cliffjumper's. The red minibot staggered, giving the larger mech a chance to put him into an arm lock and swing him around in front of him.

Then a blaster appeared in the other mech's hand, and he fired at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak transformed and threw himself behind a boulder, just barely dodging the blaster bolt. He sent a distress call out on the patrol frequency, pinging it with their location.

He immediately received ping in return: help would arrive in five minutes.

Bluestreak bit back a groan. Five minutes?! That felt like an eternity.

He unholstered his sidearm and glanced down at apprehensively. In all the time that he and Prowl had been stationed at Rodion, Bluestreak had never fired a weapon outside of the target range.

It took a moment for him to stop his hand from shaking.

"Let go of me, you slag sucking bucket of junk!" Cliffjumper's voice echoed off the canyon walls. "Let go of me so I can kick your fragging tailpipe!"

"Stop your squirming before I blow a hole in your helm," growled another voice. Then, louder, it called, "I'm going to head north, away from you, and I'm taking your buddy here as collateral. If you don't want his processor plastered against the rocks, you'll just stay behind that boulder and let me go."

"You do that, and when you let me go I'll show you who you're messing with!" Cliffjumper screamed.

"Why should I trust you?" Bluestreak called. "How do I know you won't just kill him as soon as you're around the corner?"

"You don't," said the Decepticon. There was a scuffle of pedes on gravel followed by the clank of a fist hitting plating. The Decepticon's engine revved. "Keep that up, Senate scum, and I'll offline you anyway. I can take on one lousy Autobot, and prisoners aren't usually worth the hassle."

"We've got help coming!" Bluestreak replied. "You'll never get out of here anyway, not this far deep in Autobot territory."

"Then I'll **definitely** be killing him when I'm around the corner. I'm better at disappearing if I'm alone. Oh, and by the way, if you take a pot shot at me anyway, I'll bring this whole place down on you." The Decepticon sounded smug. "I've been working here for weeks in secret, planting explosives in all of these slot canyons. They'll never find your body under all the rubble."

_Slag._

As Cliffjumper started screeching obscenities again, Bluestreak felt Prowl probing the bond, seeking reassurance about what was causing Bluestreak's distress. Bluestreak knew all he'd be able to send back would be an amplified version of what he was feeling: a rising sense of panic and a desperate desire to **do** something. So instead, he clamped down on the bond.

This wasn't any time to be distracted.

Bluestreak leaned forward, resting his helm crest against the cool boulder, and focused. He fanned his sensor wings out, pulling in as much data as he could about the canyon between him and the Decepticon. He could make out the Decepticon, holding a struggling Cliffjumper in front of him. He was slowly walking backwards, a blaster held to Cliffjumper's helm. He'd hauled Cliffjumper up high enough in front of him so that even if Bluestreak risked a shot, he would probably only hit the struggling minibot.

Bluestreak pinged the Autobot frequency for an update on the ETA of their backup.

They were still four minutes out.

He scanned the scene on the other side of the boulder again. There had to be **something** he could do!

Bluestreak had always been good at math. It was how he'd gotten chatting with Barricade, over a century ago. And physics was just math with real and tangible forces: objects and acceleration and momentum. He'd actually done well in all of the sciences, including material science, with fracture and deformation mechanics, and analytical dynamics, with statics and kinetics. But at the core of it all was math.

And math was something Bluestreak was **very** good at.

The calculations took him only a few moments. It seemed straightforward enough, but he knew he would only get one shot at this. ( _Terrible pun. Barricade would have been proud._ ) He checked and rechecked his calculations, verifying the data from his scans and figuring in the still-moving figure dragging his partner away to be killed.

Then he lifted his blaster, and leaned slightly out from behind the boulder.

His shot was true. Of course it was: after all, targeting was just another matter of math. Distance, wind speed, lateral motion, spin. When you made all of your measurements carefully and considered all of the possibilities, the outcome would almost always be certain.

His shot hit the side of the canyon with a resounding **ping**.

The rock forming the walls was strong, but could be brittle if struck in just the right way. The blaster bolt fractured the tiny outcropping above the Decepticon, and a chunk of rock fell onto his helm with a resounding clang.

"Ow!" cried the Decepticon, clutching at the finial that had been crushed... And dropped Cliffjumper in the process.

As soon as he heard the rock hit the Decepticon, Bluestreak leaned out again from behind the boulder. He took aim and fired his weapon a second time.

A moment later the Decepticon crumpled to the ground in a clatter of armor, a smoking hole in his helm where his face used to be.

"Frag me sideways, Bluestreak! That was amazing!" Cliffjumper crowed. He jumped up from where he'd fallen and looked down at the remains of the Decepticon. "I heard you were a pretty good sharpshooter, but I had no idea you could do trick shots!" He planted a kick in the fallen mech's side. "But you know I probably could have taken him out on my own, even if you hadn't made the shot. I mean, he would have had to let me go eventually, and then I would have shown him a few of my own moves."

Cliffjumper's words faded into the background as Bluestreak climbed to his pedes. As his patrol partner started rifling through the Decepticon's subspace pockets, Bluestreak simply stood beside the boulder where he'd been hiding, staring at the pile of armor and protoform that used to be a mech.

A mech who he had killed.

A mech who he had killed without hesitation. A mech whose death gave Bluestreak satisfaction for having served his function. A mech who was dead because Bluestreak had valued his partner's life over the life of an unknown enemy.

He felt another prod from Prowl, this one more urgent as he tapped against the block Bluestreak had erected on the bond. It was followed by a text ping, likely because Prowl was still on duty. _Are you all right, Blue? What's wrong?_

Bluestreak simply stared down at the dead Decepticon. He didn't dare let the block down for fear of what he'd transmit to his bond mate.

Their backup arrived within minutes as promised, taking control of the scene and the situation. They waited as engineers were brought in to discuss how to decouple the triggering mechanism for the explosives the Decepticon had planted everywhere from what remained of his helm. Finally, an hour later they were transported back to base.

Their debrief took another two hours, interviewing each of them separately for every shred of detail of what happened, obviously trying to find clues as to how a Decepticon agent had gotten so close to the main Autobot base, and how he could have gone undetected for as long as he had claimed to.

Bluestreak wasn't sure how his answers would help them, but he dutifully and mechanically answered all of the questions they presented to him. Regurgitating information was simple.

Contemplating exactly what he'd done was hard.

And the whole time Bluestreak was being interviewed, Prowl virtually paced back and forth on the other side of the block, trailing his presence against it as he waited for Bluestreak to open up to him again.

When Bluestreak finally walked out of the interview room, Prowl was standing in the hallway waiting for him.

Bluestreak stared at his bond mate for a moment, and then lowered the block. Prowl was concerned, and worried, emotions that were evident (to those who knew him well) in the set of his sensor wings and the tiny frown on his lips. When Bluestreak lowered the block, relief was added to the emotions coming from Prowl, and he stepped forward to collect Bluestreak into an embrace.

"Blue," Prowl murmured, stroking his hand down Bluestreak's back.

Bluestreak took a shuddering vent. "Prowl, I..." He lost the power from his vocalizer.

Prowl's hand smoothed down his back again. "I heard what happened. You don't have to say anything." His arms tightened around Bluestreak. "I'm just glad you're safe."

There was a shuffle of pedes on flooring behind Bluestreak, and he heard the voice of the officer who had debriefed him. "I've got this room booked for another two hours," the officer said, his tone gentle. "It's yours if you need it. I know how hard it is to get some privacy around here."

"Thank you, sir," Prowl said. "That's very kind." Then he led Bluestreak into the interview room and closed the door behind them.

Bluestreak collapsed into the same chair he'd been sitting in for his entire debriefing session. He covered his face in his hands as Prowl knelt at his pedes. "I'm just like him, Prowl," Bluestreak said once he was able to reset his vocalizer. "I killed a mech, just like he did."

From Prowl, there was confusion. "You joined the Autobots, Blue," Prowl said. "You joined as a gunner. You knew you were going to have to kill Decepticons eventually."

"I know that," Bluestreak growled. He didn't uncover his optics as he felt Prowl place his hands on his knees. "But I thought... I thought that I'd feel different somehow. I thought I'd be horrified, or sad, or... Something like that." He sucked in another vent of cool air. "I didn't expect to be **happy** to have killed someone. I didn't expect to be **satisfied** at seeing him fall." He shook his helm. "When I last saw him, Cade felt the same about what he'd done in the Senate Chambers. To him then, and to me now... Killing someone felt like a job well done."

Understanding slowly filtered through Prowl's bewilderment. "I see," Prowl said. He hesitated, and Bluestreak could feel him considering options before speaking again. "Blue, **why** did you join the Autobots?"

Bluestreak sat up and stared down at Prowl. His bond mate, kneeling on the floor in front of him, looked up at him with his clear blue optics and a spark that felt open and honest. "I joined because... you did," Bluestreak replied.

"That's really the only reason?" Prowl asked. A flicker of worry crossed his face and rippled through the bond. "You only joined because **I** did?"

"Well..." Bluestreak thought for another moment, back to the weeks of recovery he'd spent in Iacon, and of the things Prowl had told him about how the war had changed while Bluestreak was offline. Bluestreak thought about the soaring crystalline towers of Praxus that were now gone, and of the faces of his mentors. He thought about Urzul's terrified scream right before the plasma bomb dropped near them, and of Liat's worried expression of how dangerous it had become being an organic living in Iacon after the war started.

Bluestreak pulled one of his hands free of Prowl's grasp, and brushed his fingers down the side of Prowl's helm. As Prowl leaned into the caress, still staring up at Bluestreak intently, Bluestreak shook his helm. "No," he said finally. "I also joined because I wanted to make sure the Decepticons were stopped. I joined because I believed there could be good on Cybertron again." He leaned forward, kissing the center of Prowl's chevron. "I joined because you convinced me it was the right thing to do."

When Bluestreak looked at Prowl again, his white and black bond mate's optics had dimmed slightly, and his sensor wings had dipped low on his back. But Prowl still looked up at him intently. "So understand... What you did today **was** a job well done," Prowl said gently. "You saved your patrol partner, and helped uncover a Decepticon plot to destroy the infrastructure around Rodion. Killing a Decepticon was part of that. And..." Prowl's optics searched Bluestreak's face for a moment before a soft pride glimmered through the bond. "And based on what I've heard, you did an amazing job in a difficult situation, love."

As Prowl turned his helm to press a kiss into the palm of Bluestreak's hand, Bluestreak remembered Cliffjumper's exclamations after the whole thing was over. Bluestreak finally smiled. "It **was** a pretty good shot," he said, tipping his sensor wings upwards.

Prowl laughed quietly and pulled Bluestreak into another embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like a long, slow, leisurely burn because that's what this fic is turning into. But rest assured there is an end point and the fic is working its way there! 😊 I'm working on Chapter 34 right now, and I am rubbing my hands in glee at the parts that I'm writing next. ^.^
> 
> And thank you so much for your comments along the way, they've really helped keep me motivated for this marathon of a fic!


	30. Scenes from a War, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak returns from his first deployment.

Bluestreak leaned his helm back on his seat and stared tiredly at the ceiling of the troop transport. Without thinking, he started cataloguing the rivets in the metal: counting them and classifying them by how much corrosion they showed. Then he stopped himself and shook his helm slightly. He didn't need to remember anything about that ceiling, and it wasn't up to him to examine it over and over looking for a threat to him or the other members of his unit.

After months of being on high alert, constantly watching the landscape and searching for any sign of movement that might be an enemy, it was a relief to be able to just **look** at something, without being expected to **see** something.

When he found himself automatically searching the ceiling again for anything of interest, though, he shook his helm and looked around the cabin of the transport instead.

Everyone in his unit looked tired. They'd been running themselves almost non-stop for a full six month deployment, and they were all looking forward to finally getting back to Rodion for some rest. Across from him, Fastlane was slumped over and appeared to be recharging on his brother Cloudraker's shoulder. A bit further down the aisle, Outback was talking quietly with Flak. Meanwhile, sitting beside Bluestreak, Slamdance had his attention buried in a datapad as he worked on another journal entry, probably the last one of their deployment.

Bluestreak leaned back in his seat again and closed his optics. Their deployment was over. Finally.

He touched the bond, and immediately received a response from Prowl: relief, concern, and anticipation. It was faint, but stronger than it had been for almost his full deployment. If they hadn't been able to comm each other every week or so, Bluestreak didn't know how he would have kept everything together.

The night before Bluestreak's unit left Rodion, he and Prowl had commandeered an empty meeting room in the base. If anyone noticed them dragging their berth cushions and coverings into the meeting room and locking the door behind them, no one said anything.

After a long and languorous session exploring each other's frames and bringing each other's charge to a peak multiple times, they had ended up tangled together, coverings twisted around legs and arms wound around one another. Bluestreak had just been drifting into recharge, his processor blissfully blank, when he felt a twinge of anxiety from Prowl.

Bluestreak opened his optics to see Prowl watching him, his bond mate's optics glowing brightly in the darkened room. He tightened his arm around Prowl's waist. "You're thinking really hard again," he said.

Prowl's optics dimmed slightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just..." Prowl's fingers traced invisible circuitous designs on Bluestreak's chest. "I need you to come back safely. I don't know what I'd do if..."

Bluestreak shifted, rolling onto his side so he could look Prowl in the optics. "You said this was a pretty easy assignment," he said. Prowl had helped with the analysis of the deployment specs, and had told Bluestreak that there was a 98% chance of the entire team making it back alive. "I know nothing is zero risk, but it sounds like this is as close to it as we can manage these days."

"It is," Prowl said. "And if you weren't part of the unit assigned to it, I wouldn't be worrying at all. But you are, and I am. After all, it's your first full deployment. It's the first time we've been separated for any length of time since we've been bonded," His optics brightened again as he wound his fingers through Bluestreak's. "Please be safe."

Bluestreak leaned forward and kissed Prowl gently. "I'll do my best," he had whispered quietly.

On the transport, Bluestreak startled slightly when a hand landed on his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie. "Sorry, Private," Lieutenant Chromia said, lifting her hand off him quickly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't really in recharge," Bluestreak replied, looking up at his commanding officer. "I was just resting my optics finally."

Chromia smiled at him. "Well, you deserve it, considering how many times those optics of yours managed to save our chassis." She glanced across to Slamdance. "Another journal entry?"

Slamdance held up his data pad with a grin. "Of course! By the time we land I should have a full account of our mission ready for review."

Shaking her helm, Chromia said, "Just remember that any info in it needs to be cleared by command before you start distributing it." When Slamdance nodded, she added, "But I wanted to let you both know that there's not going to be a debrief session. You'll be off duty as soon as the transport lands." She gave Bluestreak a wider smile. "We've been on the road for a long time, and I know some of us have mechs they are very interested in seeing."

Bluestreak couldn't stop the slight flutter of his sensor wings. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed.

Chromia laughed and continued down the aisle.

Beside him, Slamdance laughed quietly. "It must be nice knowing your frame's gonna get jumped tonight," he said.

Bluestreak shrugged. "That depends on whether we can find someplace private," he said.

Slamdance nodded. "Yeah, that's always an issue." Then he hummed quietly. "I wonder if Jackpot's still assigned to Rodion."

The closer they got to the base, the stronger Prowl's presence in Bluestreak's spark grew. With all the signal jamming equipment around the base there was no way for him to comm his bond mate, but the excitement he was getting from Prowl made it very clear how he was feeling.

Bluestreak felt very much the same as Prowl.

When they landed and the transport's hatch was opened, Bluestreak followed his unit down the ramp onto the tarmac. The air in Rodion was acrid, and Bluestreak pulled in a full vent of the fumes. After spending so long in the heavy atmosphere around the Mithril Sea, it was nice to have dry air again, even if it did smell like smoke.

Bluestreak scanned around him as he started walking towards the main building of the base. Hauling mechs were pulling cargo off of the transport, while a ground crew of Akkiel rushed around securing the transport to the ground, the herd working like one organism. In the next bay, another transport was being readied for launch, another group of Autobots preparing to be sent on their own mission.

He was just about to send a quick ping to Prowl's frequency when he caught sight of a black and white Praxian driving towards him from the main building. Bluestreak stopped and waited, a smile plastered on his face, as Prowl drove right up to him.

With a skid of tires and an efficient roll to his pedes, Prowl transformed and threw himself onto Bluestreak. Bluestreak laughed and staggered back slightly under Prowl's weight, but held him up and wrapped his arms around his bond mate. "I missed you too, Prowl," Bluestreak laughed as he buried his face in Prowl's neck.

Chest to chest, Prowl's relief and joy made Bluestreak's knees quiver. In a moment, they switched from Bluestreak holding up Prowl, to Prowl supporting Bluestreak in his arms. "I am so happy you're back," Prowl said into his audial. "I think that was the longest six months of my entire existence."

"Agreed," Bluestreak said. He leaned gratefully onto Prowl as the two of them started walking back towards the base. "It would have seemed even longer if we'd been under comm silence, so at least we were able to talk frequently. But being able to touch you is even better." He curled his arm around Prowl's waist, brushing his fingers against one of the transformation seams in Prowl's hip. His spark was twirling happily now that it was close to one of its mates again, and he could sense Prowl's doing the same. "I don't know how bond mates go for years without being with each other."

The anticipation from Prowl jumped at Bluestreak's words, and he looked at Prowl curiously. The white and black mech smiled at him. "I have a surprise for you," Prowl said, and showed him a keycard.

Bluestreak looked at it for a moment before recognizing what it was. "Is that a key for an officer's quarters?" he asked. He stopped and stepped back from Prowl, looking at his plating more closely. "Did you get promoted and not tell me?"

Prowl laughed, and Bluestreak's spark twirled again at the sound. "No," Prowl said. He lowered his voice as he put the keycard away before taking Bluestreak's hand. "But Lieutenant Firestar was transferred to Iacon last week, and her replacement isn't due for two more days. So she gave me the key to her quarters – with the permission of the base commander! – as a gift for running some reports for her on extremely short notice. She knew that you would be coming back before the quarters were needed by her replacement." Prowl's smile matched the flutter of his sensor wings, which matched the waft of delight Bluestreak felt from him. "I recharged in there last night. It was so nice to not be woken every hour by someone tromping into the barracks."

"I'm just looking forward to having a proper berth again," Bluestreak said. "I don't mind recharging in alt mode, but it gets old after a while." He pictured himself stretching out on a proper berth for the first time in six months, and his sensor wings quivered in anticipation. "But not having to recharge in the barracks is going to be a **real** treat."

Prowl nodded at a passing mech as they entered the base and started to make their way to the wing that held the living quarters for all of the mechs and organics stationed there. "Are your tanks running low? I grabbed a few treats from the commissary yesterday and stashed them in the room."

"I could use a cube of standard grade," Bluestreak said. He lifted his shoulder, indicating the case he had slung over it. "But first I need to drop my gear off at my bunk, and I am in desperate need of a wash rack." He smiled. "I think the last time I got all the dust off of me was two months ago when we passed through Kalis."

Prowl stopped and whirled, putting a hand flat on Bluestreak's chest. "I'll get your fuel," he said, his optics bright as he looked into Bluestreak's. "You drop off your gear. Then meet me at Firestar's quarters. It's room L313." Prowl's sensor wings canted upwards as his smile widened. "And the quarters have a private washrack. Nothing fancy, but..."

A private washrack! Bluestreak's optics widened. "Big enough for two?" Bluestreak asked, resting his hands gently on Prowl's waist.

Ignoring the hoot from a group of mechs passing in the hallway, Prowl nodded. "See you there in ten minutes?"

"Make it eight," Bluestreak said.

In seven and a half minutes, Bluestreak was lifting his hand to ring the entry chime outside of room L313. Before his finger could even touch the button, the door shushed open and he was dragged into the room.

Prowl's lips were everywhere: on his face, on his neck, on his chest, on his fingers. Prowl's hands were everywhere, too, as if remapping the lines and contours of a body that it knew so well.

Bluestreak's hands wandered, too, reacquainting himself with the heavier armor Prowl had been outfitted with. Prowl's chest was slightly broader now, making room for a reinforced bumper and battering ram, while his sensor wings were shorter and thicker. But the sound that Prowl made when Bluestreak ran his fingers along the bonding stripes painted on their lower edge was the same, and the way Prowl's mouth gaped open in a moan when Bluestreak suckled on the tip of Prowl's chevron was the same.

"What do you want first?" Prowl asked after a few minutes, when they both paused to let their ventilations catch up with their cooling systems. Eagerness washed through the bond from him, tempered by concern for Bluestreak. "Fuel or shower?"

Bluestreak blinked at Prowl, then glanced around the room for the first time since he'd been pulled inside. The quarters were small: just a berth, a desk with a chair, a couch with a low table, and a doorway that presumably led to the washrack. On the desk sat a plate with some gelled energon treats beside two cubes of fuel.

At the sight of the fuel, Bluestreak's tanks rumbled at him.

He looked at Prowl again and smiled, seeing that Prowl had heard his tanks protesting their low status. "Fuel, I guess," he said. He grabbed one of the cubes and gestured at the couch. "Maybe we could sit there for now?"

Prowl nodded and collected the other cube, along with the plate of treats. As Bluestreak sat on the couch, Prowl perched on the table facing Bluestreak. "They had some of the bismuth gels you like so much," Prowl said, setting the plate down beside him. "And iron. So of course I got some of both."

"Of course." Bluestreak drained half of his cube in one gulp before setting it on the table beside Prowl. Then he put both of his hands on Prowl's knees and looked up at him. Bluestreak drank in the sight of his bond mate: the crisp white and gold bonding stripes on his sensor wings, the chiseled slant of his chin guard, the smooth contours of his helm vents, and the sharp points of his chevron. He was so incredibly handsome. "Primus, I missed you so much, Prowl," he said. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist, pressing his face into Prowl's abdomen and venting in the scent of his wax. "There were so many things I wanted to tell you, so many nights where I wanted to be able to touch you, and I couldn't."

"It was hard for me, too," Prowl said. He rested one hand on Bluestreak's helm, and stroked the other down the side of Bluestreak's helm vent. "I knew where you were, and what you were doing. We received regular reports from your unit to keep us updated as to your situation. But not knowing **exactly** what you were doing was hard. The distance made it harder. And... I'll admit to being terrified whenever I got those faint feelings of fear or anger from you." When Bluestreak looked up at Prowl, he saw Prowl's optics were dim. "Not knowing what had happened that might cause that... It reminded me of..."

"After Barricade left," Bluestreak finished Prowl's sentence. When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak took Prowl's hands in his. "I promise I will never leave you, not like Cade did. But... This is going to keep happening, you know. It's part of the deal. It's part of my duty. I'll get deployed again in another few months when it's our turn to get rotated back out into the field." He stared up at Prowl intently. "This is what joining the Autobots meant."

"I know," Prowl said firmly. His sensor wings lifted back up to this shoulders, and Bluestreak felt the trepidation he'd been sensing from Prowl shift into resolve. "And you and your unit did excellent work. You helped the Autobots secure four key locations, and the lines of battle of shifted in our favour because of what you accomplished." He smiled. "I am proud of you, love."

Bluestreak smiled up at Prowl, basking in the sensation of adoration from his mate. "Thanks, Prowl," he said. He squeezed Prowl's hands before letting them go and glancing at the plate of treats. When was the last time he'd had a bismuth gel? It was definitely before he was deployed. He felt his sensor wings flutter as he imagined what it would taste like. "So, how about giving me one of those squares you got for me?"

Prowl picked up a square and looked at it. In that instant, Bluestreak felt a surge of excitement from Prowl, tinged with mischief. Before Bluestreak could say anything, Prowl smirked at him and held up the square. "Open up," Prowl said.

With an answering smile, Bluestreak opened his mouth wide. He waited until Prowl slipped the treat into his mouth, placing it on his glossa, before closing his lips around Prowl's finger and thumb. He sucked on Prowl's fingers, swirling his glossa around them with the treat. The square melted in his mouth, tangy and sour, and he hummed happily.

Prowl's optics brightened, and his engine took on a higher pitch. When Prowl slowly pulled his fingers out of Bluestreak's mouth, his smirk had shifted into a look of bare need. "Another?" Prowl asked huskily.

Bluestreak nodded, and eagerly opened his mouth for another. This time he bit down gently on Prowl's fingers, not letting him pull them out until he had thoroughly sucked every bit of gel from them. When he finally released Prowl's fingers, Prowl's cooling fans had whirred to life with a low buzz.

Grabbing the plate of treats, Bluestreak slid back into the couch as far as he could go. Then he patted his thighs. "Why don't you sit here," he said, making it a directive and not a question. He sat the plate on the couch next to him as Prowl straddled his legs. Bluestreak looked up at Prowl, sending every bit of affection he could into the bond, and he smiled when he saw Prowl's ice blue optics grow even brighter. "My turn," Bluestreak said, and picked up an iron square. When Prowl opened his mouth and closed his optics, Bluestreak popped the treat into Prowl's mouth and then pulled him down into a kiss.

Prowl's mouth tasted like the iron square, and the taste mingled with the square Bluestreak had consumed. Where the bismuth had been sour, the iron square was bitter. And while the square melted in Prowl's mouth, coating his intake and glossa with its flavouring, Prowl melted against Bluestreak, leaning on him and grinding his modesty panel against Bluestreak's.

Bluestreak wasn't sure whether his interface system was growing warm, or whether it was Prowl's. And with their growing charge echoing across their bond, it didn't really matter one way or the other. But when he picked up another treat and placed it on Prowl's glossa, a soft moan escaped Bluestreak's vocalizer the moment Prowl's lips closed around his fingers.

"You're so gorgeous, my bright, shining light." At Bluestreak's words, Prowl's optics opened again and focused on Bluestreak. Prowl's glossa twirled around his finger. "I missed you. I missed this."

Prowl slowly pulled his mouth off Bluestreak's fingers with an audible pop, and his lips curled upwards in a soft smile. "I don't recall ever hand-feeding you treats before. Not like this, anyway."

"Then we definitely need to start doing it," Bluestreak said, and settled his hands on Prowl's hips. "But I meant being close to you. Feeling you touch me. Feeling this." He wiggled his hips, grinding their panels together again and eliciting a hum of pleasure from Prowl. "If you only knew how many times I thought about your spike when I was trying to recharge out in the wildlands..."

Bluestreak heard a click, and looked down to see Prowl's half-pressurized spike emerging from its housing. "Can you hazard a guess?" Prowl asked, his voice hitching as Bluestreak's hand closed around his spike and started slowing stroking it. Prowl's helm was rocked slightly back, but a small smile lit his lips. "A round number of how many times you thought about it should suffice."

"At least a couple of dozen times," Bluestreak said. "Probably more." He pulled gently on Prowl's spike, smiling at the way the motion seemed directly connected to his partner's sensor wings. When Prowl's wings stopped quivering, Bluestreak said, "How about another treat?"

With a shaky nod, Prowl picked up another bismuth square and slid it into Bluestreak's mouth. With the gel starting to melt on his glossa, Bluestreak sucked hard on Prowl's fingers at the same time he stroked Prowl's spike fully to the tip. With a smooth motion, he collected the bead of transfluid that had collected at the tip and smeared it around the head of Prowl's spike.

The shuddering moan that motion drew out of Prowl acted like liquid fire being poured into Bluestreak's array. Bluestreak felt his own panel transform away and his spike emerged, quickly growing to its full length. When Prowl's hand closed on his spike, his hips jerked upwards.

Bluestreak looked down at their spikes. Barricade had been so right, all those years ago: Prowl's spike was magnificent. It was about the same length as Bluestreak's, but it was thick with evenly spaced ridges wrapping around it. Bluestreak's spike was more of a standard girth, but had a wide head and a decorative swirl of red running up its silver length.

With his free hand, Bluestreak cupped Prowl's aft, pulling their interface panels close. He looked up at Prowl's face, with his half-lidded optics and slightly parted lips, and he felt another surge of joy. Joy that this steadfast and supportive mech had come into his life, gratification that Prowl had been there to support him through all of the ugliness with Barricade, and delight that Prowl continued to love him despite all of the changes that had happened to them since they'd met. If anything, the trials they'd been through had made them grow even closer.

Maybe when you lose something, you learn to love the things you have left even more.

Prowl seemed to sense Bluestreak's mood and leaned forward, resting his chevron against Bluestreak's. With his optics just centimeters from Bluestreak's, Prowl began to slowly stroke Bluestreak's spike with long, even motions. Even as his own cooling fans spun faster, Bluestreak slid his hand up Prowl's rigid spike.

They'd always loved holding hands while interfacing, fingers entwined as they brought each other to a peak of charge. But optical contact was just as good... Maybe even better. Bluestreak could see the wavering brightness of Prowl's optical filaments as he moved his hand up and down Prowl's spike, and he smiled when he gently pinched the tip and saw tiny flashes of charge flicker to the edges of his lenses. And whatever Prowl saw in Bluestreak's optics, he kept the motion of his hand steady and firm, sensing exactly what Bluestreak needed and delivering it at the speed of thought.

When they were both crackling with charge, with Bluestreak's hand a blur around Prowl's spike and his own focus on the pressure building in his array, it was Prowl who tipped them both over the edge, his self-control suddenly evaporating in a wave of need. For a moment they were one mech caught between two bodies, both crying out in bliss, before they settled back into their rightful frames, spent and struggling to pull in enough air to cool themselves.

Prowl stirred first, turning his helm from where it had come to rest on Bluestreak's shoulder and pressing his lips against Bluestreak's neck. "I think we both need a run through the washrack, now," he murmured.

Bluestreak didn't bother opening his optics, but he nodded and wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist more tightly. He could feel their mingled transfluid smearing both of their frames, but that was a problem for later. "In a few minutes," he replied, still letting the post-overload lassitude seep into his frame. "You said we'd both fit, right?"

Prowl made a non-committal grunt. "Probably," he said. Then his shoulders shook in a quiet laugh. "But I won't mind if it's a tight fit."

Smiling, Bluestreak nuzzled the side of Prowl's helm. "Me neither," he whispered. "I want to be as close to you as I can, for as long as I'm able."


	31. Scenes from a War, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak discovers what Barricade has been up to.

Bluestreak collected his ration from the dispenser and turned around to survey the mess hall, looking for an empty seat... Any seat.

Over the past two weeks, the Rodion base had picked up several thousand new troops. When the large base just on the outskirts of Tagan Heights had started teetering on the verge of falling to the Decepticons, the Autobots had evacuated as many troops as they could. The rescued mechs had been reassigned to bases all around Cybertron, but Rodion had picked up the most.

Rodion had been crowded to begin with, since it was where almost every Autobot started their career. But now things were very cramped. Everyone had to share a berth with someone working the opposite shift. Rations were lowered (temporarily, they had been told) to ensure there was enough fuel to go around until they could secure more supplies. And even places like the mess hall were more crowded than they had ever been before. Ever since the mechs from Tagan Heights had arrived, Bluestreak had fueled while standing up more times than he could remember.

Bluestreak spotted a mech getting up from a table, and he hurried over to grab the seat before anyone else could. He pulled the chair out and smiled at the mechs gathered around the table, flicking his door wings up in a friendly manner. "Does anyone mind if I take this seat?" he asked, scanning the table.

A mech across the table was staring at him with a deep frown on his face, but the bulky truck beside Bluestreak gestured to the chair. "If you don't take it, someone else will," he said.

"Thanks," Bluestreak said, slipping into the seat. He looked around the table again. He vaguely recognized some of them as mechs who had arrived from Tagan Heights, but things had been so busy since then he hadn't had a chance to learn anyone's designations. He took a drink from his fuel and looked at the frowning mech across from him. When Bluestreak had sat down, the mech had leaned back, placing his palms on the edge of the table as if to shove the table away from him. Now he seemed frozen, his optics fixed on Bluestreak.

Odd. Maybe he didn't like strangers?

Bluestreak offered the mech a wide smile. "I'm Bluestreak, Artillery," he said, extending his hand across the table. "What's your name?"

The mech's optics widened, and he stared at Bluestreak's hand as if he was being handed a live grenade. Without a word the mech shoved back from the table and hurried off into the crowd.

"Ah, don't mind Cascade," the mech sitting next to Bluestreak said. He glanced at Bluestreak and shrugged. "He's had a **thing** about Praxians ever since he got captured by the 'Cons."

"Yeah, he's scared of you," chimed in another mech, a slim two-wheeler. He looked up as another mech took the empty seat without a word. "Hey, Twister." The cycleformer looked back at Bluestreak. "He sees a set of sensor wings like yours and it sets him right off."

Bluestreak lifted a brow ridge. "He's scared of Praxians?" he asked. He glanced around the table, trying to find an explanation in the other mechs' faces, and finding none. A few mechs were openly staring at him, their curiosity evident in their expressions, while others avoided his gaze. "Why?"

"The 'Cons base in Hydrax had an interrogator there. A Praxian. Specialized in hacks and forced downloads. Everyone who survived one said they were pretty sure he enjoyed making it hurt. He never smiled, but he didn't stop when they screamed, either." The mech sitting beside Bluestreak took another drink from his cube before continuing. "He'd scrape your processor of everything the 'Cons wanted and then some. Then after he was done with ya, they'd toss you into the work pits."

The mech who'd taken the empty seat scowled into his cube. "That damn mine didn't have any energon worth looking for."

The mech beside Bluestreak grunted. "Yeah. Anyway, Cascade got captured, and had his processor scraped by that Praxian interrogator... You remember him, from the coup? Black plating, gold face, purple chevron? His face was all over the news. Anyway, Cascade escaped from the pits a few weeks later with a bunch of others, but..." He shrugged. "He ain't been the same since Barricade got ahold of him. That mech is as cold as steel."

The mechs around the table continued to talk, but later Bluestreak couldn't remember a single thing they'd said. He felt a nudge from Prowl, looking for reassurance that Bluestreak was all right, but he couldn't collect himself enough to send anything back to him.

_Barricade!_

Bluestreak had dreamt about Barricade, off and on. They were almost always simple dreams: the three of them just sitting in the living area in their flat in Iacon, or racing Barricade around a track. Sometimes the dreams took on a charged edge, with Barricade writhing and moaning beneath him. As time passed, and the pain associated with the hole in his spark continued to fade, Bluestreak thought about and dreamt about Barricade less and less.

But sometimes, all of the pain and memory and sorrow and guilt and loss came roaring back as if everything had just happened yesterday.

"Hey, you all right?"

Bluestreak looked up at the mech sitting beside him. At the same moment he received a ping from Prowl. _Blue, what's wrong? Did something happen?_ Over the bond, he felt Prowl probing at their connection, looking for some reason for the tumult of emotions coming from Bluestreak.

Bluestreak sent back an acknowledgement to Prowl along with a request to see him as soon as possible. At the same time he tried to smile at the mech who'd asked the question. He wasn't sure if he succeeded. "I, uh, I got a comm from my mate and I need to go see him right away. Um, thanks for the seat!" he said, shoving his chair backwards and standing up.

As Bluestreak hurried away from the table, he heard one of the mechs ask, "Are **all** Praxians that weird? There are so few of them around now..."

_Barricade!_

Bluestreak didn't have clearance to enter the wing where Strategy and Analysis was located. Instead, he paced back and forth at the entrance of the corridor, his processor running through every possibility.

Ever since the bond had been severed, Bluestreak had wondered what had become of Barricade. What was be doing? What was his role in the war? Where was he stationed? Would they ever come face to face with him?

Bluestreak hated not knowing.

He was sure Prowl hated not knowing, too, even if Prowl had always clamped down on the bond whenever the subject came up. But after Bluestreak had spent months speculating about where Barricade was and what he might be doing, Prowl gently asked him to stop. "Guessing isn't going to suddenly show you the truth," Prowl had told him. "And it won't make you wonder any less. All you're doing is torturing yourself, and me." Prowl's lips had curled into a soft smile. "Please, if not for your own sake, then for mine... Please stop actively wondering about things you can't possible know for sure."

But now Bluestreak **knew**! Barricade was in Hydrax! Or at least he was recently; Bluestreak didn't know how often the Decepticons moved their troops around. And he was...

_They were pretty sure he enjoyed making it hurt. He never smiled, but he didn't stop when they screamed, either._

With a skid of his pedes on the metal floor, Bluestreak stopped pacing.

_He ain't been the same since Barricade got ahold of him. That mech is as cold as steel._

Bluestreak tried to reconcile that description with the handsome mech he'd known, the one with the roguish grin and gentle hands.

Surely it couldn't be true.

"Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak looked up as Prowl exited the restricted corridor. He took two steps towards Prowl, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Prowl, I know you told me to stop guessing where Cade is... But now I **know**! And I know what he's been doing!"

Instead of the look of shock or the taste of curiosity that Bluestreak had expected, Prowl's expression turned guarded. Over the bond, Bluestreak felt resignation from Prowl. Glancing over his shoulder at the two guards on either side of the restricted corridor, Prowl started guiding Bluestreak the other way. "Where did you hear this?" Prowl asked quietly.

"From some of the mechs from Tagan Heights. A few of them had been captured by the Decepticons and taken to Hydrax, and..." Bluestreak shook his helm. "One of them is afraid of Praxians because they said he was interrogated by Cade, or at least a Praxian called that, who looked like him, and..." He stopped and turned to face Prowl again. "It can't be right, what they said, about him being cruel. Maybe it was a different mech. Maybe..."

Something over the bond, something in Prowl's expression, stopped Bluestreak's words in his vocalizer. Bluestreak's optics flicked all over Prowl's face as he analyzed what he was feeling from Prowl: Resignation. Guilt. Regret. "Prowl?" Bluestreak asked, taking a half step back from his bond mate.

Prowl's lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced behind them one more time before focusing back on Bluestreak. "I know where Barricade's been, and what he's been doing," he said quietly. His sensor wings dipped low. "I already know."

Bluestreak narrowed his optics. "How long have you known?" he asked, throwing a block up on the bond to stop his suspicion from bleeding over it. But maybe there was a good explanation. Maybe it had just been a little while. Maybe it had just been since the Tagan Heights mechs had arrived. After all, they'd both been pretty busy for the past few weeks. Maybe...

"I've known for over a year," Prowl said. He glanced behind them again, and his sensor wings flicked upwards once in agitation. "The information was in a package we received from... Look, I can't tell you where the package was from." Prowl's engine snarled in frustration and he shook his helm. "But I knew. And I'm sorry for not telling you."

Bluestreak stared at Prowl open-mouthed for a moment before replying. "A year?" he asked incredulously. "You've known where Cade was for over a **year** and you didn't tell me?"

"I'm sorry," Prowl repeated, his sensor wings as low as they would go.

On the other side of the block, Bluestreak could sense Prowl trying to send him something, but Bluestreak angrily reinforced the block. "A **year** ago? That's why you told me to stop trying to guess where he was, isn't it?" Bluestreak asked. When Prowl glanced away from him, Bluestreak threw his hands in the air. "You were afraid of your reaction if I guessed right! So to stop that from happening..." Bluestreak shook his helm again, flaring his sensor wings out behind him. "I can't believe you knew and kept it from me! It's not like it was classified. All of the mechs at the table knew his name, Prowl. **Everyone** sitting there knew who he is. It's common knowledge. And... and I can't believe you didn't **tell** me!"

Prowl finally seemed to regain the inner strength that Bluestreak had always known him to have, and he looked Bluestreak straight in the optics. "Tell me the truth," Prowl said. "If you knew that he was in Hydrax, would you have gone after him? Maybe tried to get onto a mission heading that way?" When Bluestreak rolled his optics, Prowl added, "Ever since he left, it felt like all you ever did was look for him. You spent so much time searching for him in crowds, or scouring the news for any trace of him. You've been obsessed. And before Praxus, you always talked about finding him and convincing him to come back." Prowl took a half step towards Bluestreak. "Can you blame me for thinking you'd try to go after him?"

Bluestreak paused. He gently brushed the empty spot in his spark, feeling around the periphery of it. The sense of pain and loss was still acute when he focused on the hole, but he could feel that the edges were starting to heal. He knew that Prowl sometimes did the same, accidentally sending jolts of pain through the bond. While Prowl seemed to have built barriers in his spark to keep himself from probing the gap as often as Bluestreak did, Bluestreak knew they both still keenly missed Barricade.

They just dealt with their grief differently.

Bluestreak's gaze lingered on the gold and white bonding stripes that Prowl still had painted on his wings... **Both** of his wings. Prowl hadn't removed the stripes on his right wing like he would have if he'd totally given up on Barricade, but Bluestreak knew that was mostly in deference to him. Prowl understood that Bluestreak still clung to hope that things could be fixed, even if Prowl himself had no such desire for reconciliation. But so long as Bluestreak held out hope for repairing the bonds that had been broken, Prowl kept his stripes.

And he'd kept them even though Prowl knew exactly what Barricade had been up to all these years.

"I'm not stupid, Prowl," Bluestreak said finally. He glanced up at Prowl, seeing the anxious set of Prowl's sensor wings. Bluestreak loosened the hold he had on the bond, and he felt Prowl's guilt and worry stream into their connection. "Of **course** I wouldn't have gone after him." He shook his helm when Prowl's optics brightened. "What do you think I would do: go driving straight into Decepticon territory demanding to know where they were keeping the Praxian?"

Prowl paused for a moment before laughing ruefully. "No, I suppose you wouldn't do that after all," he said. "But I was worried that..." He crossed his arms across his front bumper and ducked his helm. "I am sorry for not telling you. I was just afraid of losing you. We're at war, and there's are so many ways I **could** lose you, ways that I have limited control over. I think I just wanted to make sure this was one thing I could control."

Bluestreak stepped forward and pulled Prowl into a hug. "Well, now I know where he is and what he's doing," Bluestreak said quietly. "And I promise that I won't go after him." He shook his helm, thinking about what he'd learned about Barricade. "To be honest, their description of him – you know, the things they said he did - doesn't gel with the Cade we knew."

"It's him," Prowl whispered, and now his grief and anguish were coming through the bond clearly. He leaned his helm against Bluestreak's shoulder. "That's another reason I didn't want to tell you. I never would have thought that he had such capacity for cruelty within him, but... It's him. It's Barricade."

Bluestreak pulled a vent, trying not to let his exhale shudder into a sob. Neither of them needed to be crying in the corridor right now. He leaned back so he could look Prowl in the optics again. "I promised that I wouldn't go after him," he said. "But you need to promise me something, too. Don't ever keep things like this from me again. Especially not about Cade." He shook Prowl's shoulders gently. "Please?"

Prowl nodded. "Agreed," he said, slumping forward again to rest his helm on Bluestreak's chest. "No more secrets."


	32. Return to Iacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Prowl receives a promotion, Bluestreak and Prowl are transferred back to Iacon, and Bluestreak finds out just how much the city has changed.

If there was one constant in their lives since joining the Autobots, it was change.

As Bluestreak's skills and reputation as an excellent gunner and an expert sharpshooter grew, he was called on more and more often to support important missions. Each of those deployments meant time spent away from Rodion, and from Prowl. Being bonded meant that they were sometimes allotted several months together at a time before Bluestreak would get sent out on his next mission, but the needs of the Autobot cause came before the needs of their relationship. Sometimes they only had a few weeks together before Bluestreak would be gone again, and once they had only three days between two four-month long stints in the field.

Not knowing how long they would have together meant that Bluestreak and Prowl tried to make the most of every moment they had. After they were caught fragging in a storage closet by a (fortunately understanding) commanding officer, Prowl started planning their trysts with military precision. Bluestreak complained that all the planning took the spontaneity out of things, but at least they were never caught in a compromising position again.

"It's this base," Prowl grumbled one morning as they visited the mess hall to collect their rations. "It's overcrowded, and Command knows it. Most other bases don't have the huge collective barracks like Rodion's. In places like Stanix or Iacon, even the rank and file mechs are allotted shared quarters." He glanced at Bluestreak as he picked up his cube. "Speaking of which, I got wind of a senior tactical officer position that's come open in Iacon, working directly with Autobot High Command. There would be a promotion attached to it, to an officer position." His sensor wings flicked outwards as if bracing himself. "I was thinking about applying."

Bluestreak put a dash of cobalt flakes in his fuel and followed Prowl to an empty table. "I think that's a great idea! You have a ton of commendations already, so you should have a good shot at it," he said, lifting his sensor wings encouragingly and smiling. "But I can tell that there's a 'but' coming." 

"Correct." Prowl took a small sip from his fuel, and Bluestreak could feel Prowl collecting himself. When Prowl looked up at him again, his sensor wings had fallen slightly. "The 'but' is that there's only one unit in Iacon that currently has an opening for an Artillery mech."

"And you're worried that I won't get in?" Bluestreak asked. "That..." He felt his spark do a small flip-flop. "That we'll get separated?"

"No, on the contrary," Prowl said. He swirled his cube but didn't drink from it, instead watching the copper flakes dance in the liquid. "You are one of the best Artillery mechs of your caliber in the entire army. You might not realize it, but you are in high demand."

Bluestreak knew that he was good, but he tried not to think too much about it. When officers and other mechs called him 'a great sniper,' Bluestreak's processor always translated that into 'a great killer.' That always made him feel uncomfortable, so he tried not to dwell on exactly what his skill meant.

But if the issue wasn't that Bluestreak **wouldn't** get a transfer alongside Prowl... Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side. "So what's the problem?"

Prowl's optics were clear and bright, highlighting the thread of fear running through the bond. "Tutela Unit is tasked with some of the more dangerous operations run out of Iacon. They often run high-risk insertion and extraction missions deep into Decepticon territory to pull out Special Operations mechs, or to do targeted takedowns of high-profile Decepticons." Prowl's sensor wings trembled slightly, and Bluestreak felt him narrow the bond between them to only a bare thread. "You would be in far more danger there than you would be if you remained here."

"Oh," Bluestreak said. He swirled his own cube and drank half of it while he thought. He was always in danger when he was deployed, to be honest. He hated to admit it, but he'd grown used to the swell of excitement when they were approaching a target. However, that was something he knew Prowl didn't like about Bluestreak's position.

On the other hand, Bluestreak knew that he would do anything to keep himself from being separated from Prowl for a long time.

Bluestreak set his cube aside. "All right, let's think about this. On the plus side, you'll get a promotion. That also means getting private quarters. That is, if officers in Iacon get same sort of quarters they do here?" When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak held up two fingers on his left hand. "I've also heard that there are actually a handful of cafes and other things still open in Iacon, so we'd have a lot more variety there than we do from the commissary here." He held up a third finger on his left hand.

The corner of Prowl's mouth lifted in a small smile. "Are you seriously counting 'shopping opportunities' as a positive?"

"I consider treats a quality of life issue, so yes." Bluestreak smiled, then held up his other hand. "On the down side, I would be placed in a unit that does more dangerous missions than the ones I'm running now." He held up one finger on his right hand. "Anything else?"

Prowl's smile vanished. "I think the possibility of you dying should be weighted far more heavily than having someplace new to buy rust sticks," he said quietly.

Bluestreak reached across the table and took Prowl's hand. "Nothing is certain. You know that. You work those probabilities and possibilities into every mission you design," Bluestreak said. "And speaking of that..." He held up his hands again, displaying three fingers on his left hand and one on his right before adding a fourth finger to his left hand. "If you get that promotion with Autobot High Command, doesn't that mean you'd be working with the Prime? And you'd be able to advise him directly?" Bluestreak smiled. "I remember you saying that you wanted to have a real impact on how the war goes. This is your chance."

Prowl ducked his helm and was silent for a moment before replying. "I suppose you're right," he said finally. He lifted his helm and opened the bond again, and Bluestreak could feel his bond mate's worry. "But..."

Bluestreak held up his hands again and waved his fingers in the air: four to one. "But I think you should apply, and if you get it I'll apply for the associated transfer." He smiled and took Prowl's hand again. "Besides... I am sick of recharging with a hundred other mechs in the room, when I'd rather just recharge with you."

Finally Prowl nodded. "All right," he said, and lifted his wings again. "I'll apply."

* * *

Returning to Iacon was so very strange.

The city itself had undergone many changes since Bluestreak and Prowl had moved away. To begin with, it had turned into more of a garrison than a proper city. The roads in and out of the city were under heavy guard. Anti-airframe artillery bristled from all of the tallest buildings. And even inside the city, the streets were littered with checkpoints and piles of rubble from attacks which had never been cleaned up.

Instead of being lit up at night with a million lights on a thousand buildings, searchlights panned across the sky while most of the towers were dark. Instead of the streets bustling at all hours, strict curfews were in place for the few mechs and organics who were still trying to eke out normal civilian lives amidst the horrors of residing in a city under siege. And instead of the spaceport constantly humming with activity, the only transports coming and going were military ones, outfitted with weapons and bearing the Autobot symbol. Meanwhile, the army had completely taken over all of the spaceport's buildings.

But the Iacon skyline remained almost the same. And aside from the roads that were blocked by rubble, the street layout was the same. So just a few days after they arrived in Iacon, Bluestreak took off from the spaceport to explore. He and Prowl had reveled in their new, private quarters as much as they could, but they were quite small. With Prowl putting in extra hours to settle into his new position, Bluestreak didn't want to spend his free day sitting in their quarters, as nice as it would be to nap on their double berth. And it would be three days before Tutela Unit would begin assessing him for acceptance into their team.

Bluestreak didn't want to dwell on what would happen if the unit ended up rejecting him.

So he found himself navigating his way down the almost deserted Citron Expressway, aimlessly driving, before he realized that his tires were taking him to the flat where he and Prowl and Barricade had lived. He slowed, wrestling with himself for a moment, before speeding past the exit.

Going to visit their building would not serve any useful purpose.

But he did cruise slowly past the offices of Qhasel Logistics. It looked like no one had leased the building after the company had moved to Praxus; their partially dismantled sign was still hanging on the side of the building. Now the warehouse had fallen into disrepair, being too far from the spaceport to be of any real use to the Autobots, and being too large for the small businesses remaining in the city to use.

Bluestreak slowed to a stop and considered seeing if he could get inside somehow. But no – what would be the use in that? He had been the last one from his company in the building, decades ago, when Qhasel Logistics had finally moved out. He had been the one to hand over all the key cards to the owner, a surly all-terrain truck frame. Bluestreak knew there was nothing left in the building when he'd shut off the lights and closed the door.

He drove on, taking turns and ramps at random, lost in his thoughts.

Bluestreak passed a checkpoint, pausing long enough to be scanned and to ping his identification and credentials at the Autobot guards, before realizing where his meanderings had taken him.

He transformed and reinforced the block on the bond. Prowl was working. Even though Prowl had his own block up so he could concentrate, Bluestreak didn't want to let any of his emotions bother Prowl at what might be a critical moment. When he was sure that the block on their bond was solid, Bluestreak slowly walked into the small park.

The crystals were gone, of course. Without someone to care for them, transplanted crystals did not last very long, especially in Iacon's climate. All that remained of the small crystal gardens was the grid pattern of the paths, and a few scattered benches. It looked like some benches had been ripped from their foundations, probably to be smelted into something more useful for the war effort.

Bluestreak wondered what Barricade would have made of the destruction that had fallen on the park where Barricade had first admitted to Bluestreak how he felt about him, and where they'd first kissed, and where Barricade had invited Bluestreak to bond with him.

Those moments felt so very long ago.

Bluestreak tried to remember which intersection of the park it was where Barricade had proposed. Without the crystals providing context, Bluestreak could not remember where they had been standing. 

After wandering around aimlessly for a few minutes, Bluestreak slumped down onto a bench, which turned out to be a bit wobbly with a broken leg, and stared out over the empty park.

He idly wondered what would happen if he was somehow able to transport himself back in time. Would Barricade even recognize him? Would he recognize himself? Bluestreak looked down at his dark grey chest, so different than the silver it had been the first time he'd entered this park. He knew he was wider now, and heavier. His tires had been changed to a more rugged tread, and the mounts for his shoulder cannons were visible even when they were stowed. If he went back in time and tried to warn himself and Barricade about what was to come, would they listen?

Bluestreak wasn't sure that they would have. The tale would probably have been too farfetched for them to believe.

With a grunt, Bluestreak hauled himself to his pedes and walked through the park, working his way down the paths to the other side. He paused at one intersection as a glimmer of reflected light caught his optics. Looking more closely at the ground by the side of the path, he saw a tiny shard of crystal working its way free of the rock and metal.

Bluestreak smiled at the shard. "You go, little guy," he murmured. Reaching out, he scraped up as much of the remaining growing medium as he could and patted it up against the base of the shard. "Do your best. Maybe you'll show everyone there's still something beautiful to be found in amongst the rubble."

As Bluestreak stood and brushed the growing medium from his hands, he saw the light of a sign across the street from the park. As he left the park and crossed the street, he realized it was a small cafe. A sign written in Cybertronian and A'ovan read _Axen's Delicacies_. Through the window he could see a few organics and mechs sitting at tables.

Bluestreak pushed open the door of the cafe. At the sound of the door's chime, a few of the patrons glanced up. Two Povians sat closest to the door, while a herd of Akkiel sat around a table in the back. A lone mech sat in a booth, flipping through a data pad with an intent expression.

"Friend Autobot. You are welcome." An A'ovan appeared from the back and stood behind the counter. He held his hands out, palms up. "Please. Sit wherever you like."

Bluestreak shook his helm and smiled. "I was just driving by and noticed your place. I got curious. It's been a while since I've been in a proper restaurant." He looked down in the counter's display case, and his optics widened at the assortment of treats that were inside. "Holy slag. Are those rust sticks?"

The A'ovan hummed and bobbed his head. "Yes! Finest iron used in their making. Am told, are very delicious." He waggled his long fingers. "Understand, I cannot know."

"They're the best you'll find in Iacon," grunted the mech sitting in the booth. The mech wore an Autobot badge, but the insignia on his shoulder plating marked him as one of the few civilian support staff. He hadn't looked up from his data pad, but he picked up a gel cube from the platter on the table. "Just don't ask Axen where he gets the material from." He bit into the cube and started chewing.

With a swirl of robes, the A'ovan rounded on the mech. "Friend criminal, shall I call you? We agreed. Energon, legal. Additives, legal. Scavengers' rights, we agreed. Benches, unclaimed property. Now, are useful."

When Bluestreak saw the smirk on the mech's face and heard a quiet titter from the A'ovan (who he surmised was Axen), Bluestreak had the feeling that this might be a long-standing joke between the two. Sure enough, after a moment the mech looked up and smiled at Bluestreak. "It's fine. I'm just pulling his starter. I broke down a few benches from the park across the street for him so he could make those rust sticks. Helps him keep the cost down, helps me get my rust stick fix." His smile widened. "They really are quite good."

Bluestreak wove his fingers together and buzzed quietly to indicate he was thinking. There were a lot of other interesting-looking treats in the display case, but he didn't have a lot of shanix on him. "How much are the rust sticks?" he asked.

Axen was looking at him with a curious tilt to his head, and his dark eyes were wide over his rebreather. "Three shanix a stick," he said.

Bluestreak just managed to prevent his sensor wings from flipping upwards in shock. At the Autobot commissary in Rodion, rust sticks used to go for five sticks for a single shanix. Of course, that was before the Autobots started using iron to manufacture the power packs for their weapons instead of the more rare ruthenium. Bluestreak couldn't remember the last time he'd seen rust sticks in the commissary, before or after moving to Iacon. It was no wonder the A'ovan had started processing the benches to make them.

After checking how many credit chips he had on him, Bluestreak finally said, "I'll take four rust sticks. Can you wrap them to go?" he asked, holding his hands together in a gesture of thanks. Bluestreak was looking forward to surprising Prowl with his favourite treat after his long shift today.

Axen retrieved four rust sticks from the display case and wrapped them up. As he stood and handed the bag to Bluestreak, his delicate fingers slid gently down Bluestreak's arm. His touch was light enough so that Bluestreak could pull away if he wanted. Axen clicked quietly in A'ovan, almost too low for Bluestreak to hear. "Friend Autobot, you sign well. Do you know many A'ovan?"

Bluestreak set the bag on the counter and balled his hands into fists, a gesture that indicated sadness. Summoning up the A'ovan he remembered, he clicked, "The idols favoured me. I knew a full stable, and I was dear friends with their matriarch, and her first daughter who became matriarch after her. Their friendships enriched my life." He let his arms fall to his sides, mirrored by his sensor wings. "I regret that no fires were lit for their passing. I did not have any incense to light."

The A'ovan hesitated before letting his own arms fall to his sides. "There has been so much loss. My own stable has joined the great march. I had to fan the smoke alone." Even though the A'ovan language could not conduct much in the way of emotion through its percussive clicks, Axen's slumped frame expressed his grief plainly, even if one didn't know all of the gestures the species used.

Of course. Of all the organics living on Cybertron when the war broke out, the A'ovans seemed to have taken the brunt of the casualties. There hadn't been any A'ovan in Rodion that Bluestreak knew of, and only one or two worked at the Iacon base in administration. The A'ovans had mostly all fled the planet after the Fall of Praxus... Or they had died. The ones who still remained on the planet had been left behind when the others escaped.

Feeling his jaw quiver, Bluestreak clenched his dentae together. He didn't want to start crying in this stranger's business. "My stomachs are empty for your loss," he said in A'ovan.

Axen brought his hands up, tenting his fingers together. "I will light the fires for your friends tonight. How shall I name them for the idols?"

"Stable Qhasel," Bluestreak clicked in reply. He lifted his sensor wings and pressed his hands together tightly. "Thank you for doing that for my friends." When Axen nodded solemnly, Bluestreak tapped the bag of rust sticks. He switched back to Cybertronian. "I'm afraid I have to get back to base pretty soon. How much do I owe you again? Twelve shanix?"

Waving his fingers, Axen trilled quietly. "Rust sticks, consider them paid," he said in Cybertronian. "Is good, hearing A'ovan, seeing A'ovan again." He pushed the bag at Bluestreak insistently. "Enjoy, friend Autobot."

"Really?" When Axen nodded, Bluestreak smiled broadly. "Thank you so much!" he said. He picked up the bag from the counter. "I will definitely be back. My bond mate loves rust sticks." He was about to turn towards the door, but he stopped to add, "My name's Bluestreak, by the way!"

As Bluestreak pushed his way back through the cafe's door, he heard the mech sitting at the table ask, "If I learn A'ovan, will you give me these squares for free?"

"Friend Tycho, already get squares for free, in exchange for benches. Do not push luck," Axen twittered in reply.


	33. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl receive more news about Barricade.

"I have to say that it's one thing to read your record, and quite another to see you in action. Your aim is simply glorious," Delta Magnus said, looking up from the data pad he held in his hand. "I am extremely impressed."

"Thank you, sir," Bluestreak said, still holding himself to stiff attention.

The commander set the data pad on his desk and folded his large hands in front of him. "At ease, corporal." He waited until Bluestreak relaxed into a parade stance before continuing. "I'll get right to it. You can consider your probationary period closed," he said. When Bluestreak's sensor wings tipped upwards fractionally, Delta Magnus smiled. Bluestreak had learned that the commander was very good at reading Praxian frame language. "That's right. I know you were told it would be a full five missions before we'd settle on accepting you permanently, but I've spoken to the other members of the team and they are just as impressed as I am. In the two missions you've run with us, you have proven yourself well. Your skills are exemplary, your attitude is professional, and... To be honest, the other unit members just plain like you. You fit into our team very well."

Bluestreak couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face, and letting his relief wash through the bond. He knew Prowl was working, but maybe some of it would get through Prowl's block. He couldn't wait to tell his bond mate the good news: he'd been accepted, and he wasn't going to be reassigned back to Rodion or to some other base. "Thank you very much, sir," Bluestreak repeated.

Delta Magnus stood and reached across the desk to grip Bluestreak's arm. "Welcome to Tutela Unit, Corporal Bluestreak."

Bluestreak was due at the firing range for practice after his meeting with the commander, and he ended up practically floating there, his pedes barely even touching the ground. The fact that he wouldn't be getting rejected and shipped off to some other base and – worst of all – separated from Prowl made his spark spin happily.

The war had escalated in the past few months, and the Autobots could no longer guarantee that bond mates would be kept together. Accommodations were made to make sure mates could spend time together on a semi-regular basis, of course; mechs were far more resilient to the hardships of war if they could depend on their bond mate for strength and stability. But the overall needs of the army came first, above the needs of its individual soldiers, and sometimes bond mates were separated for long periods of time.

Bluestreak and Prowl wouldn't have to worry about that... Not for the time being, at least.

Bluestreak took his place at a stall on the firing range. As he started the now calming and familiar routine of loading a charge pack into a rifle and decimating all of the targets the training program presented him, his memory drifted back to the first time he'd been introduced to the other members of Tutela Unit.

He had been standing in a briefing room, trying not to look nervous or pace too much. Everyone he had spoken to said that he had nothing to worry about, but doubts fueled by anxiety remained. If he didn't make the cut for the unit, he would probably be shipped off somewhere else.

He was pretending to look at a large map of the area around Iacon that was displayed on one of the monitors in the room when he was suddenly grabbed from behind by two very strong arms.

"Flutters!" cried a familiar voice. "Fancy meeting you here!" Bluestreak was lifted into the air before he knew what was happening, and he squawked in surprise. He was immediately set down again, and he whirled around to face a very familiar red mech with a lopsided grin.

"Sideswipe!" Bluestreak smiled at his friend, then looked behind him. "And Sunstreaker! I haven't seen you two since Basic!"

"We know," Sunstreaker said, much more calmly than his brother. His arms were crossed over his chest. He seemed to radiate an aloof detachment, but Bluestreak saw the corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly upwards. "It's good to see you, too."

Sideswipe slapped Bluestreak on the shoulder armor, flicking the tip of his cannon mount with a finger. "You're looking really good! You're looking a lot sturdier than you did when we first met you, anyway. So, Artillery, huh?"

"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "You were right after all. They took one look at my aptitude scores and placed me there."

"Just like I said they would," Sunstreaker said smugly.

"Of course." Sideswipe grinned as he swung himself into a seat, flipping the chair around to sit on it backwards. "And where's your pretty bond mate? Is Cop Bot stationed here, too?"

"Prowl's in Strategy and Analysis. He's a senior tactical officer now," Bluestreak said, not really able to keep the pride out of his tone. "He's part of a team that advises the Prime directly."

Another mech appeared in the doorway of the briefing room and nodded at the twins before taking a seat. Sideswipe smiled and waved at the new mech, then lowered his voice slightly. "We'd really love to talk to you more, Flutters, but we've got a briefing with our unit, and-"

Bluestreak's sensor wings tipped upwards in excitement. "Wait. Are you part of Tutela Unit?"

"Yes." Sunstreaker's optics narrowed. "Hang on. Are you our new gunner?"

Sideswipe looked at his brother excitedly. "They did say they got us one of the best!" He looked up at Bluestreak. " **Are** you our new gunner? Really?"

"I guess I am," Bluestreak had replied, and smiled broadly. Sideswipe's excitement was contagious.

Bluestreak didn't know how much of his success with his new unit was because of his skill, and how much of it was because of Sideswipe's and Sunstreaker's influence, but the other members of the unit seemed to take to him right away. While the first two missions he'd been sent on were what Sideswipe called 'sparkling games,' Bluestreak took them as seriously as anything he'd done before. When he managed to singlehandedly take out all but one Decepticon in a squad of ten while Outrun downloaded critical information from a downed Autobot shuttle, he earned the unit's respect.

On their next mission, when he used his missiles to shoot down a Decepticon seeker who was flying so high above them that none of the other unit members had even seen it, he proved his value.

Prowl had always had a need to feel useful. Now that Bluestreak had found his niche, he really understood Prowl's desire.

Bluestreak was just ejecting the battery pack from his weapon and shoving it back into the firing range's charging station when he got the ping from Prowl indicating he was done with his shift. Bluestreak opened a comm to his bond mate.

"Hi Prowl! Great timing, I just finished up at the range. And I got some really good news today! Did you want to swing by the mess hall to grab some fuel, and I can fill you in?" Bluestreak asked. He flooded his side of the bond with his excitement but... Prowl's side was still blocked. "Err, is everything all right?"

Prowl's voice was unusually subdued. "I think I'd prefer to fuel in our quarters," he said. "I already picked up our rations and I'm on the way there now." There was a pause. "I don't think I want to deal with crowds right now."

That wasn't unusual. As Prowl had picked up more and more responsibility, he got overwhelmed in loud or crowded situations more and more often. Where Bluestreak's frame and engine had been altered to make him more useful to the Autobot's cause, Prowl's processor had been tuned and refined to allow him to process more data faster. As a side effect, though, he struggled when there was too much sensory input. The medics had been working with him to find filters that would prevent the processor aches he now got in crowds, but they were still a work in progress.

"That works for me," Bluestreak said. He probed gently at the bond, which was still blocked, before retreating. Maybe Prowl's day had been really rough, and even the input from Bluestreak would be too much. "I'll be there soon."

When Bluestreak reached their quarters, he keyed open the door and slipped in as quietly as he could. A glance around the room, though, showed that Prowl had not lowered the lights like he normally did when his processor and sensor suite were overwhelmed. Instead, Prowl sat on their berth, his hands balanced on his knees as though he was meditating. A data pad sat beside him on the berth. He looked up when Bluestreak entered. "Hello, Bluestreak," Prowl said.

Bluestreak crossed the small room and sat down on the berth beside Prowl. "Hey," he said softly, gently taking one of Prowl's hands in his. "I take it you had a rough day?"

Prowl's sensor wings drooped slightly. Sitting this close to Prowl, Bluestreak could sense something was not right, even through the block Prowl still had up. But before Bluestreak could analyze the sensation, Prowl's helm shook slightly. "You go first. You said you had some good news?" Prowl asked.

Bluestreak's frown deepened, but he stayed away from the bond. Prowl would tell him when he was ready. Gathering himself, Bluestreak shook out his sensor wings and put a smile on his face, recalling the reason for his happiness. "Yes! I was accepted into Tutela Unit permanently." His hand tightened around Prowl's. "I'll be stationed in Iacon for as long as the unit is based out of here."

Finally Prowl smiled, and his optics brightened. "That **is** good news!" he said. Prowl loosened his hold on the bond, enough to let a trickle of happiness through. "And I told you that you had nothing to worry about. You are one of the best gunners the Autobots have right now. I knew you'd make an excellent addition to the unit."

Bluestreak soaked in the feeling of happiness from his mate, but his smile faltered when he realized that Prowl's joy was threaded through with a very familiar grief. It was a grief coloured with anger and regret. It was a grief that Bluestreak had always come to associate with Prowl thinking about Barricade. "Prowl, what's wrong?" Bluestreak asked, trying to hold his voice steady. "Did you find out something about Cade?"

Prowl's sensor wings quivered again, dropping even lower as he nodded. "Yes. It's about Barricade." Prowl finally dropped the block on the bond, and Bluestreak could feel everything that Prowl had been holding back: a gnawing grief and a deep concern, which was clearly directed at Bluestreak. "What I'm about to tell you is classified. There are some details that I cannot tell you at all, but I received clearance for this part of it. Do you understand?"

Bluestreak nodded, his own worry rising even higher. In the brief pause before Prowl continued speaking, Bluestreak's processor ran wild with the possibilities. It was news about Cade. It was something that troubled Prowl deeply. Maybe it was about where Barricade was. Maybe they'd gotten wind that Barricade was part of a pending attack on Iacon! Maybe Prowl was worried about Bluestreak having to fight Barricade face to face, just like Bluestreak had worried about all these years.

Or maybe it was something worse. Maybe... Maybe Barricade thought they were both dead. Maybe he'd moved on. Maybe he was getting bonded. What is he was getting bonded to Megatron or something? That would be awful.

In the few seconds of silence between them, Bluestreak's processor came up with a dozen different scenarios, each of them more dire than the last. But he was not prepared for the words that fell from Prowl's vocalizer with an uncharacteristic flatness.

"Bluestreak... Barricade is dead."

_No. **No!**_

Bluestreak's helm was shaking even before he'd fully heard the words. He heard someone saying, "No. No." It took him a moment to realize he was the one saying it. "No. He can't be."

The concern that Prowl had been broadcasting flared stronger, and Prowl gripped Bluestreak's hands tightly. "It's true, love," Prowl said. "I read the reports. I saw the vid. The Autobots conducted an aerial attack on a target, with orders to destroy it. Barricade was outside the facility, and then ran inside with the other Decepticons..." Prowl's helm shook minutely, but his icy blue optics held Bluestreak's gaze. "He was inside when it was destroyed by an airstrike."

Bluestreak wasn't sure that he'd even stopped shaking his helm, but now he shook it vigorously. "So the building was blown up. He could have gotten away. He might have slipped away in the confusion. Maybe he-"

"The operation was observed from multiple angles," Prowl said. His tone gave no opportunity for any sort of dispute, and his expression was resolute. "The remains of the building were thoroughly examined after the fact. There were multiple frames found in the debris. There were no survivors."

"And you know for sure that one of them is Barricade?" Bluestreak asked, clinging to whatever hope he could find. "They found his body?"

Prowl's expression faltered slightly. "No. They were not able to identify the frames," he said. "But no one escaped the explosion."

"So then how do you know it was even him?" Bluestreak asked. He yanked his hands from Prowl's and rose from the berth. He stared pacing the length of their tiny quarters, crossing from wall to wall in three strides, then turning and walking it again. "There are lots of black-painted mechs in the Decepticons. You said it was an aerial attack. From how far away? Maybe it wasn't him." Bluestreak knew he was grabbing for whatever shred of hope he could find, but he couldn't even conceive of a world in which Barricade didn't exist anymore. "Maybe it was someone else. Maybe you're **wrong** , Prowl."

Prowl watched Bluestreak pace for a moment before reaching out to grab his hand as he passed. When Bluestreak paused to look at him, Prowl picked up the data pad that sat next to him. "This is a still from the vid, taken by one of the aerials." He pressed the data pad into Bluestreak's hand. "The vid itself is classified, but I can show you this."

Bluestreak continued to stare at Prowl for almost a full minute. The data pad felt heavy in his hand. He had a brief notion that if he never looked at it, if he never viewed the image, he would never have to know. If he never saw any proof, there could always be the possibility that Barricade was somewhere out there still, alive.

Looking meant making it real.

But Prowl held his gaze. And over the bond, all Bluestreak got from his bond mate (his one bond mate, the one still beside him, the one who hadn't run off to join the wrong side of a war) was comfort and understanding. Reassurance. Sadness. Worry, for him. Worry for how he would take this. Worry for what he'd do next.

Slowly, Bluestreak flicked on the data pad and looked at the screen.

The image had been taken from the air, looking down on a small group of mechs outside of a low, squat building. The building itself had been reinforced, with glittering shields in the few windows and protective scaffolds encasing its walls. The mechs outside the building had weapons drawn, and they were looking up into the sky.

Bluestreak's optics skimmed past the other mechs, and focused on the dark one on the right.

His plating was black, his shoulders were broad, his chevron was a familiar purple. His face, which Bluestreak had seen glowing with ecstasy and laughing with delight and twisted in anger, was a stunning gold. His kissable lips were pressed into a thin line, their corners turned down into a frown. And his gorgeous scarlet optics were fixed on the camera.

It was as if Barricade was looking directly at him.

He didn't know when he'd slumped back down onto the berth, but he leaned into Prowl's embrace when the white and black mech wrapped his arms around him. "It's him, Blue," Prowl whispered. "I don't want it to be, and I know that you don't either, but it is him."

Bluestreak ran his fingers down the image, brushing them across Barricade's cheek. He shook his helm again, just once. "No," said Bluestreak, not sure whether it was a denial or a plea.

Whichever it was, his voice sounded flat and lifeless.

* * *

Bluestreak got the paints from Sunstreaker, along with two brushes and masking tape to make the edges of the stripes crisp and clean.

When Bluestreak quietly approached the twins, asking whether the notoriously vain Sunstreaker had any gold and black paint, Sideswipe started to scoff at him, because **of course** Sunstreaker had gold and black paint. How else would Sunstreaker detail himself after a mission, or a training session, or after an overly energetic roll in the berth?

But Sideswipe's teasing words died in his vocalizier when he saw Bluestreak's face, and the set of his sensor wings. Instead, Sideswipe slung his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. "Flutters, what's wrong?" Sideswipe asked quietly. Without any prompting, Sunstreaker slid closer to Bluestreak on the bench. The wide frames of the two brothers efficiently blocked the view of anyone else in the mess hall from seeing Bluestreak's face.

That was one of the reasons he liked the brothers. They seemed to instinctively understand the pain that Bluestreak and Prowl were going through, and did whatever they could to offer comfort.

As soon as they heard why Bluestreak wanted the paints, Sunstreaker immediately offered to paint the stripes for them. Bluestreak wavered; Sunstreaker would probably do a much better job than either he or Prowl would do. But finally he shook his helm. "Thanks, but I think we'll want to do this alone," he said. He smiled wanly at Sunstreaker. "At least at first. Maybe... After a while, when they need to be repainted, you can clean them up for us."

Sunstreaker had nodded solemnly. "Whatever you want," he replied. "I'll bring the supplies to your quarters tonight."

It took Bluestreak two tries to get the tape straight on Prowl's right wing. But he finally managed to get the lines evenly spaced and parallel, and he started applying the paints as Prowl sang.

The mourners weren't supposed to be the ones who sang. It was supposed to be their families, lifting their voices in song. Their families were supposed to sing the hymns designed to soothe the broken sparks of the bond mates who had been left behind. But then again, in a traditional mourning rite for a trine mate, the bond would have been freshly broken, and the surviving mates would have been in no condition to sing. It had been years since their bonds with Barricade had been broken. Mourning a trine mate who had been lost to them long ago, while in the middle of war, while the two of them were alone in their quarters, meant that tradition had to be thrown out the window.

They made do.

So Prowl sang as Bluestreak painted the mourning stripes on Prowl's right sensor wing, carefully laying black and gold over top of the white and gold bonding stripes he'd worn for so long.

Bluestreak had never heard Prowl sing. Barricade had been the singer, with a deep rich baritone that seemed to resonate in Bluestreak's chest cavity whenever Barricade hit the lowest notes. But Prowl's voice was a pleasant tenor, and he hit most of the notes perfectly. There was a warble in his tone, especially when the hymn's words spoke of meeting their late bond mate in the Afterspark, but he powered through and sang the hymns all the way through.

But when it was his turn to sing the hymns and have the bonding stripes on his left sensor wing painted over, Bluestreak's voice wavered. His vocalizer dropped power on the phrases referring to loss and grief, and he found he couldn't even sing the refrain at all. "I can't, Prowl," he gasped, finally giving up. "I can't sing it. I can't..."

Prowl stopped, holding up the brush he was holding. Its tip was laden with black paint. "I can sing it with you," Prowl said. "If you think that would help."

Bluestreak nodded, and Prowl's voice picked up the hymn where Bluestreak left off.

By the time Prowl sang the last verse and launched into the final refrain, Bluestreak found the strength for his vocalizer again, and he finished the song in chorus with Prowl.

Completing the hymn felt like a little victory amidst all of the loss.

After they sprayed their freshly painted stripes with fixative and cleaned up the brushes that Sunstreaker had loaned them, Bluestreak carefully placed the toy tankformer he'd carried with him all these years on the shelf over their shared berth before the two of them curled up together. They both needed rest: Prowl had a shift in the morning, while Bluestreak was expected to report for a briefing mid-morning in preparation for his unit's next mission.

The war still went on. There was no time for mourning.

But neither of them found recharge calling to them.

They faced each other on the berth, their legs twined together. Prowl's optics were lit with half power, their icy blue glow faint. Bluestreak traced designs on Prowl's chest, not to arouse, but just to touch. He simply wanted to feel the thrum of Prowl's spark under his fingers, and feel the warmth of his frame, and hear his ventilations. He wanted to reassure himself that Prowl was still there with him.

Bluestreak needed something to ground himself in reality, when everything he was feeling seemed like a bad dream.

They lay there in silence for an hour, gently brushing fingers against plating, shifting to let a pede slide up a leg and back down again, optics locking together in silent contemplation. And across the bond a low and resigned grief ricocheted between them.

Bluestreak blinked when he felt a drip of coolant running down his cheek.

Stirring, Prowl wiped the drip away with his thumb. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked quietly.

"I have to be," Bluestreak said with a humourless laugh. "I have a mission briefing tomorrow." He closed his optics. "I'm sorry. I know we need to recharge."

"We knew this was going to be a possibility," Prowl said. When Bluestreak opened his optics again to look at him, Prowl leaned forward to press his helm crest to Bluestreak's. "We knew we might lose him."

"Yeah. But that didn't stop me from hoping," Bluestreak said. "I thought... I thought that maybe we'd get him back. I thought that maybe we could fix things." He vented out, the airflow uneven and shaky. Bluestreak skimmed his consciousness over the hole in his spark. The edges of that hole seemed more painful now, more raw, and Bluestreak gritted his dentae against the pain his touch caused. The sense of something missing was more evident now than it had been in a while. "I think I always had a hope that he'd come back to us, and apologize, and we could bond again."

Prowl vented quietly. "I know you wanted to reestablish your bond to him."

"You never felt the same," Bluestreak said. It was a statement, not a question.

"No," Prowl said. He sounded tired, but his optics had brightened as they spoke. "I always felt so mad at him. I still am. I think I blame him for what happened to Praxus, and what happened to you. I blame him for his part in starting this war."

Bluestreak paused, rolling Prowl's words around in his processor. Then he said, "Prowl... If it came down to it... If Cade had come back, and apologized, and... I don't know, somehow made things right, and we could have rebonded..." He hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words. "Would you have wanted me to do that? And... Would you..." His voice trailed off.

The question was purely hypothetical now, of course. But Bluestreak still wanted to know.

Prowl shook his helm. "I can't see any way that I would ever bond with Barricade again," he said. "But... I can't tell you what to do with your own spark. I can feel how much you miss him. I know how much you liked being part of a trine." The sensation coming from Prowl was firmly supportive, if not wholly happy. "I wouldn't have stood in your way."

Bluestreak nodded once. "You would have been all right with an uneven bond?" he asked. Bluestreak had known a few trines in Praxus with very non-traditional uneven bonds, where one mech was bonded to two others who weren't bonded to each other. Bluestreak had always found the arrangement a bit strange when he met someone who was a part of one those uneven bonds, but if it worked for those mechs, who was he to say anything?

With a nod, Prowl said, "I never felt compelled to trine. I could be happy with just one mate." He tightened his arm around Bluestreak's waist. "You're all that I need in my spark."

Bluestreak vented softly, and sent Prowl a stroke of gratitude over the bond. Bluestreak felt so lucky to have Prowl at his side, to help him through everything he'd experienced over the past decade, and he wanted to make sure Prowl knew how he felt. The sensation he received from Prowl in return told him that Prowl did know, after all. Bluestreak closed his optics and settled into Prowl's arms.

Finally, he drifted into recharge.


	34. Where There's Smoke...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak's unit goes out on a high-stakes extraction mission, in which things could go horribly wrong.

There was an unfamiliar tension in the transport. They'd been on dangerous missions before – that's exactly what Tutela Unit was known for – but this one seemed different. There was an urgency around this mission that had set everyone on edge, including Bluestreak.

Bluestreak tried not to fidget with his weapon, but he couldn't resist ejecting the battery pack from his rifle, checking it, and slotting it back into its housing. He looked up and saw Sideswipe doing exactly the same thing. The red frontliner smiled and shrugged at Bluestreak, seemingly acknowledging his own nervousness. Beside him, Sunstreaker sat silently, his gaze grimly focused on nothing in particular in the middle distance.

Their mission briefing had been quick and hurried. A group of Autobots had infiltrated far into Decepticon territory, breaking into an installation just a few kliks away from Darkmount. The team had uncovered something big, something important, just before they were discovered.

The brief didn't contain any details on how they managed to escape the facility, but the team was making their way towards a rendezvous point near the Sea of Rust. Tutela Unit would be meeting them there to extract them. From that angle, it sounded like a routine extraction.

However, the brief also said to expect a large contingent of Decepticons in pursuit of the Autobots. Whatever the team had discovered, the Decepticons did not want the information to get back to Iacon... Which implied that securing that information might mean a turning point in the war.

For decades, the war had dragged on, and the Autobots seemed to lose ground with every battle. For every step forward the Autobots took, the Decepticons pushed them back three. Polyhex had finally fallen after the Decepticons swarmed the Autobot position there. Uraya had also fallen, although the details about what happened were scarce; the Autobot base there had simply gone silent, and high-altitude flyovers showed that the structures had been scoured away. Rodion was under almost constant siege, and had been for over five years. Meanwhile, Crystal City had been decimated by the Decepticons, who looted it and left it in ruins.

The Autobots were slowly being pushed into smaller and smaller areas as the Decepticons' control of Cybertron grew.

Bluestreak had become a permanent fixture in Tutela Unit, surviving even some of their more disastrous missions. (He didn't make it out completely unscathed, however... He had to have his legs replaced after their transport was hit by a missile and crashed several years earlier, and he once took a hit directly to his chest plating that had just missed his spark chamber.) But Bluestreak was unusual for having stayed with the unit for so long. In fact, the only other members who were still in the unit from when he joined were Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. All of the other original members had either been transferred out of the unit, or had died in the line of duty. Even Commander Delta Magnus had been promoted out of the unit, and they were now under command of Commander Springer.

Bluestreak knew that the constant danger Bluestreak was in stressed Prowl immensely. Bluestreak had considered asking for a transfer out of the unit, but that meant he would almost certainly be transferred away from Prowl. As one of the elite units in the Autobots, Tutela Unit was stationed in Iacon. That was where Prowl's post was, and that's where Bluestreak wanted to stay.

Prowl worried constantly that Bluestreak would be injured again, or worse. Prowl tried to keep his worry blocked from Bluestreak, at least while they were in range of each other. But they both knew that each time Bluestreak boarded a transport for the next mission, it could be the last time they saw each other.

It was hard, always living on the edge of death.

Just before the transport left on this mission, Prowl met Bluestreak on the edge of the Iacon airfield. That wasn't unusual; Prowl occasionally saw him off when he had time. But the worry pouring through the bond was unusual, and Bluestreak asked him about it quietly.

Prowl hesitated only a moment before answering. "I don't like the parameters of this mission. It only has a 71% chance of success."

"That's not too bad," Bluestreak replied. He patted Prowl's arm soothingly. "I've been on missions with a lower chance of success."

Prowl shook his helm. "The **mission** has a 71% chance of success," he said. "But the mission objective is to retrieve the information collected by the infiltration team. The chances that your whole unit will return unharmed is lower than 50%. **Much** lower." Prowl took Bluestreak's hand and held it tightly. "Please, be careful, love."

Bluestreak took in Prowl's icy blue optics and trembling sensor wings before answering with a firm nod. "You know I'm always as careful as I can be, my light," he murmured.

Prowl stared at Bluestreak for a moment, his optics darting all over Bluestreak's face. He only glanced away when there was a loud whistle from the transport. "That's your cue," Prowl said. He kissed Bluestreak's cheek, then stepped back. "Clear skies and smooth roads."

On the transport, Bluestreak leaned his helm back and closed his optics as he waited for the comm traffic to indicate they were approaching the target. To calm himself, he mentally disassembled his weapon for cleaning, imagining going through every motion. He'd learned the visualization technique for calming his thoughts from the counsellor he'd seen back when he and Prowl were living in Praxus, and found that it worked wonders for him. Just picturing the routine maintenance helped clear his processor, taking his thoughts away from the what if's and might be's that were clogging it.

Bluestreak guessed it was about twenty minutes before he heard the first alert. There was a flurry of comms between their transport and the two gunships accompanying them, and a few minutes later Commander Springer called for attention. "All right, we've got an update on the situation. The infiltration team is holed up in some caves near the edge of the sea. The area is crawling with Decepticons looking for them, so as soon as they break cover with their signal flare they'll have enemy units all over them. But with this terrain, we won't be able to land very close to where they're holed up. They're going to need cover and an escort back to the shuttle. We're going to have to do this on hard mode."

Springer paced up and down the length of the small transport shuttle. "Our job will be to distract the 'Cons, escort the infiltration team back to the shuttle, and protect it until everyone can get back on board and we can get our afts out of here. Brawn, Pyro, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, you're our escort team. Bluestreak and Pointblank, you'll establish a perimeter and keep it clear until everyone's back. Whirl and I will be providing low-altitude air support for the escort team, and the gunships will be running interference for everyone. Any questions?" Springer stared around the transport for a moment, his optics focusing on every mech, before nodding. "All right, keep comms clear of unnecessary chatter (this means you, Sideswipe), and let's make this a clean retrieval. It's vital that we get the information those Autobots are carrying. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" All of the members of the unit barked their reply in unison.

Bluestreak checked his battery pack again as they waited, and brushed gently against the bond. He got an immediate response from Prowl: worry, love, respect. Bluestreak sent back his own love, and then blocked the bond.

Showtime. This was no time to be distracted.

Over the comms, he heard one of the gunship pilots call out, "There's the flare, 282 degrees."

"That's our cue," Springer called, slamming the hatch release button. "Safe landing, mechs. See you on the ground." And then the hatch was opening, and Springer and Whirl threw themselves into the air, transforming as they fell.

Bluestreak was a little relieved that this mission didn't call for an airdrop for everyone. While he didn't mind the view you got while freefalling through the air, Bluestreak still didn't fully trust his parachutes, and he didn't enjoy the stiff feeling in his shocks the next day after a particularly hard landing. He knew Sideswipe relished the maneuver, although his brother was a bit less enthusiastic about it.

The first time Bluestreak had explained an airdrop maneuver to Prowl, he thought his bond mate was going to regurgitate his fuel. But Bluestreak was positive that Barricade would have loved it.

A few moments later, there was a harsh jolt and a cloud of dust entering the transport through the open hatch as they landed. As soon as the ramp hit the ground, the escort team transformed and drove off. In the distance, the bright point of a flare was just finishing rising into the sky before fading out, leaving a trail of white smoke behind it.

"I'm east," Pointblank said, and ran that direction without waiting for Bluestreak to reply. _Typical._ Pointblank tended to do his own thing without coordinating well with his unit mates, something that was sure to get him killed eventually. Bluestreak shook his helm slightly and went west, taking up a sentry position just under the wing of the shuttle, and started scanning for unfriendlies.

The rugged terrain around the shuttle could have been hiding any number of enemies. The ground was uneven, with irregular hills and hummocks scattered everywhere – the perfect place for an ambush. Bluestreak hoped that the escort team wasn't on their way to getting slagged.

But there was nothing he could do about that from here. He flared his sensor wings out, seeking any sign of someone sneaking up on the shuttle.

While keeping up a constant scan of his surroundings, Bluestreak listened to the comm chatter. Whirl and Springer called out directions to each other and to the gunships, and Bluestreak heard an almost constant spattering of fire coming from someplace north of the shuttle. He glanced that direction a few times, almost expecting to see the burst of a mortar or the sharp streak of a blaster bolt, but the hilly terrain hid everything.

Bluestreak hunkered down and waited.

A few minutes later, Sideswipe's voice crackled over the comm line. "Contact! Four friendlies inbound with us. One's injured, so we're going to be a bit slow." Bluestreak could hear the tension in Sideswipe's tone. "They had some unwanted attention, but we handled that."

Springer's voice came over the comm line, sounding tense and distracted. "Whirl and I are just cleaning up here. We'll be a few minutes before we can join you. Watch the skies; the 'Cons know we're here now and are calling up everything in the area."

"Looks like we kicked up a nest of Seekers!" Whirl called, sounding almost gleeful.

"Copy that," said Sunstreaker, his voice brusque.

Bluestreak cast his sensors skyward with a wave of apprehension. When it came to a showdown between a group of ground vehicles and a squadron of Seekers, the odds were definitely **not** in their favour.

Another spatter of blaster fire in the distance announced the escort team, just as Bluestreak picked them up on his sensors. A moment later, a Seeker roared up over the hill from the same direction as the escort team.

Bluestreak immediately targeted the Seeker as it sailed overhead. He turned, his movements carefully coordinated with the pitch of his cannons as they swung around, tracking the airborne mech. In two nanokliks he had a lock, and he loosed a missile.

Even with his reinforced frame, and bracing himself with a back pede, and his arms held out for balance, launching a missile from his shoulder cannons always sent Bluestreak skidding backwards on whatever surface he was standing on. He'd fallen over more times than he could count, sustaining more damage to his ego than to his frame. He always remembered what Hexwrench had complained about, so many years ago when he'd installed the cannons on Bluestreak's shoulders, that smaller framed mechs were not suited for Artillery.

His frame may not have been suited for it, but Bluestreak was **very** good at it.

The missile sailed free of his left cannon, streaking upwards into the sky after the Seeker. A moment later, high above the shuttle, the missile caught up to the Seeker, and both of them exploded in a spray of fire and debris.

"Great shot," Pointblank called. Bluestreak glanced in his direction, but saw that his partner was already looking back towards the north, towards where the escort party was driving around a bend.

The members of Tutela Unit were driving in a square formation, surrounding four mechs. The smallest was kicking up a lot of dust, just like you did when your tire was shredded. Bluestreak winced. A ripped tire was incredibly painful; Bluestreak had suffered enough of them during the war to know that personally.

"As soon as you've got our mechs on board the shuttle, take off," Springer ordered, his voice crackling over the comm line. "Whirl and I will cover you and catch up."

Bluestreak heard the pilot of the shuttle ping an acknowledgement, but he kept his optics focused on the group approaching them. As he watched, he heard another familiar sound, of air roaring over hot turbines. Bluestreak lifted his sensor wings, looking for the Seeker. He caught a brief glimpse of purple and black and then-

A moment later, the ground under the escort team erupted in dirt and flame.

"Sideswipe!" Sunstreaker's voice rang out loud through the air and over the comm. There was so much dust that had been kicked up in the explosion that Bluestreak couldn't see anyone from the team. But then a purple and black Seeker sailed out of the dust cloud, too fast for Bluestreak to set his targeting systems on it.

"I've got him!" Whirl called, careening out of the same cloud, chasing the Seeker. The two mechs vanished behind another hillock to the south.

Bluestreak turned back around to see that the dust had cleared slightly. Brawn and Pyro had driven out of the dust cloud and were nearing the shuttle, flanking two racing frames that were weaving uncertainly. The white one slowed as they neared the shuttle's ramp and transformed, stumbling to his pedes. He held a hand to his helm, seeming to stare at the sleek white and blue mech beside him in confusion before turning to look back the way they'd come. As he turned, Bluestreak caught a glimpse of a command emblem on his shoulder armor.

"Where are my other mechs?" the white racer called. His blue visor was dim but his voice was still strong. "I gotta... I gotta go back for 'em."

"We'll bring them, sir," Pyro said, transforming alongside the white racer. He grabbed the commander's arm and started hauling him up the ramp, using his larger size to his advantage. "But we've got to get you inside."

Brawn followed the second mech up the ramp, pushing him with his bumper as the shuttle's medic ran out to meet them.

The dust had cleared slightly, and Bluestreak saw the minibot with the ripped tire still making her way towards the shuttle. Behind her, Sunstreaker was helping Sideswipe hobble back to the shuttle. The red mech was leaning heavily on his brother, his left leg sparking badly. Sideswipe wasn't so much walking as being half dragged, half carried by Sunstreaker.

The fourth mech on the infiltration team was nowhere to be seen.

Another Seeker screamed by, spattering the ground between the twins and the shuttle with blaster fire, but somehow missed everyone.

Bluestreak ran a few paces towards the twins. "Where's the last one?" Bluestreak called.

"He's still back there. We have to go get him. Sunny, I'm fine, let me go," Sideswipe said, putting his damaged leg down and then wincing in pain.

"Not until I get you into the shuttle," Sunstreaker said grimly, continuing to drag his brother forward.

Bluestreak peered into the dust, fanning his sensor wings wide. The dust was still clearing, and his sensors were reading things more clearly.

There was a small crater where the Seeker's missile had landed. Beside it was the frame of a mech. At first, Bluestreak's spark sank as he saw that the mech wasn't moving. But then he saw the mech push himself up slightly, as if struggling to rise to his pedes, before collapsing back to the ground.

"I've got him!" Bluestreak yelled as he transformed, landing on his tires with a spray of gravel as he took off. "Pointblank, cover me!"

"What – you're the one who's supposed to be providing cover!" Pointblank yelled at Bluestreak's rear bumper.

It was a short drive to the stricken mech, and the dust had almost completely cleared by the time Bluestreak got there. As soon as he reached him, he transformed and skidded to a stop on his knees.

Bluestreak almost lost his grip on the block he'd placed on the bond when he realized that the mech was Praxian.

How long had it been since he'd seen another Praxian? There had been Skids, a theoretician who had come through Rodion a few years before Bluestreak and Prowl had transferred to Iacon. And there was Nightbeat, a brilliant analyst who had been assigned alongside Prowl for only a few weeks before being transferred back out to Tyger Pax.

Praxians seemed to be a rare frametype these days, and here was one lying right beside Bluestreak.

"Hey!" Bluestreak said, putting a hand on the mech's neck, feeling for his medical port. "Are you online? Or are you alive at least? Can you stand up? Can you transform?"

The mech coughed dust from his vents. "Yes, I think so, I'm not sure, and no," he said. His voice was laden with static.

Bluestreak pulled his hand back, relieved that he didn't need to jack into a stranger's medical port. The last time he'd done that he ended up picking up a virus: nothing serious, but it had been obnoxiously persistent. It had taken him months to finally get his systems clear. "Let's get you up, then," Bluestreak said, and started pulling on the mech's arm.

Getting the other Praxian upright was a chore. His right pede was partially crushed, and his right hip didn't seem to be working correctly. His blue and red plating was marked with scrapes and dents, and his left sensor wing hung still and crooked behind him. When Bluestreak tried to sling the mech's right arm around his shoulders so that he could support him from that side, the mech cried out in pain. But when Bluestreak froze, the mech shook his helm. "Sorry. I'll be all right. Let's go."

Bluestreak carefully started helping the mech limp his way back towards the shuttle. He could see a flurry of activity as the other members of his team fired on another two Seekers that screamed overhead, trying to keep them away from the shuttle. "Do you know what all's wrong? Can you run a diagnostic?" Bluestreak asked, trying to keep the mech talking. Maybe he could give Fixit a rundown of the mech's damage as soon as they reached the shuttle.

The mech laughed, a sound that ended with another round of coughing from his vents. "I've got such a huge list of errors that it might be easier to give you a list of what's not broken," he said. The mech held up his free hand. "For example, I think my second finger is unscathed."

Bluestreak laughed, feeling a bit of relief. If the mech was able to crack jokes, maybe he wasn't too badly damaged after all. "Well, that's good to know, but I don't think we have any spare fingers in stock." The mech coughed out another laugh, and Bluestreak tried to readjust his grip on the mech's waist. The mech hissed in pain again. Wanting to keep the mech's processor off of all the damage he'd sustained, Bluestreak said, "So my name's Bluestreak. What's-"

The roar of a Seeker engine interrupted Bluestreak, and he flinched down, instinctively wanting to dive to the ground. But he also didn't want to drop the injured mech, and so he simply held on and flattened his sensor wings to his back as the Seeker made a strafing run right past them.

Bluestreak swore he could see the individual bolts hitting the ground just a meter away from him.

"Bluestreak! This is no time for a leisure walk! Get to the shuttle. Move it!" Springer's voice came over the comm as he zoomed past in pursuit of the Seeker.

Looking at the distance between him and the shuttle, Bluestreak quickly analyzed the situation. He could call for Pyro so that he could throw the damaged mech up onto Pyro's large alt mode. Or he could ask Brawn and Pointblank to help him carry the mech back to the shuttle. But both of those options meant he'd have to wait for his team mates to drive out to meet him.

Or...

"Sorry about this," Bluestreak said. Before the Praxian could say anything in reply, Bluestreak heaved him up over his shoulders. Ignoring the yelp of pain from the injured mech, Bluestreak started running towards the shuttle.

The other Praxian was heavy. He'd obviously been outfitted with reinforced plating just like Bluestreak and Prowl had. And if he'd tried this before the war, Bluestreak didn't think he would have been able to lift the mech at all, let alone run with him slung over his shoulders. But Bluestreak's retuned engine and reinforced frame had made him stronger and tougher, and he covered the ground to the shuttle with long strides.

"C'mon, Bluestreak, put some rubber into it," Brawn called encouragingly. He aimed into the air and fired again as Bluestreak heard yet another Seeker engine coming around for another pass.

Bluestreak didn't dare look, and simply focused on putting one pede in front of the other, and not falling.

Then, suddenly, he was at the shuttle. As soon as Bluestreak passed Pointblank, his partner thumped the side of the ramp and commed the pilot. "That's everyone! Let's go!"

Springer chimed in over comms. "There's still a lot of Seeker traffic here. Gunship 113, go with the shuttle. Whirl and I will stay back with Gunship 327 and make sure you're not followed. Now go!"

Bluestreak charged up the ramp, his engine nearing its limit as he reached the top. He staggered as the shuttle started rising into the air, sending him lurching sideways. He knelt down quickly and lowered the injured mech to the floor of the shuttle, next to where Sunstreaker was fussing over Sideswipe's damaged leg. "Are you still with me? Sorry about picking you up like a sack of copper shavings," Bluestreak said. He peered into the injured mech's face. "But you're safe now."

The mech looked at Bluestreak wearily, but he smiled. "That was pretty impressive, Bluestreak," he said. He pressed his hand into his right side with a hiss of pain, his upper lip curling in a grimace. "You're stronger than you look."

Bluestreak shrugged, but returned the other Praxian's smile. "You were a bit heavy, but I managed. You can thank the engineers at Rodion for me being able to carry you."

"Lucky me," the mech said weakly, and leaned his helm back against the side of the shuttle.

Next to the injured mech, Sideswipe was looking at Bluestreak with a strange expression. "Are you sure you're all right, Flutters?" he asked. "You didn't get tagged by some shrapnel, did you?"

"No? I'm sure. Why?" Bluestreak asked. He quickly checked his HUD, but there was no reported damage.

Sunstreaker finally looked up from his brother's leg. His optics widened slightly as he reached out and touched Bluestreak's shoulder. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered in a pink liquid. "You're leaking."

Bluestreak wiped at his shoulder and looked at his hand. Sure enough, it was covered in a smear of energon. He did another quick scan of his HUD, looking for any signs of damage, but everything was coming up green. "It's not mine," he said. "But –"

He looked down at the injured mech he'd carried into the shuttle over his shoulder just in time to see the mech's optics flicker and go dark. Between the fingers of the mech's right hand, which was still pressed to his hip, dripped a steady flow of energon.

"Fixit!" Bluestreak yelled. He pushed the mech's hand aside and saw the energon was leaking out of a seam in his side. There was nothing obvious for Bluestreak to press or cauterize and **slag** what if this Praxian faded right before him and- "Fixit! I need you **now**!"

"I'm just finishing up here," said the medic. He was working on the tire of the injured minibot from the infiltration team.

Sunstreaker had seen what alarmed Bluestreak, and he added his voice to Bluestreak's. "This can't wait, Fixit!" Sunstreaker called.

"All right, all right," Fixit said, climbing to his pedes with a grumble. "What's the-" As soon as he saw the energon leaking from the mech's hip, the medic stopped talking and dove right into action, shoving Bluestreak aside in the process. "Thank you, corporal. I'll take it from here."

Bluestreak hovered uncertainly behind Fixit for a moment before turning and finding a seat on the other side of the small shuttle. He sat next to the infiltration team's commander, who seemed to have recovered his bearings after the missile strike. He looked up when Bluestreak collapsed beside him. His visor was brighter than he had been when Bluestreak had first seen him. "Thanks for bringin' him in," he said with a thick Polyhexian accent.

"Bringing back your whole team was our objective," Bluestreak replied. He was still staring at the other Praxian, hoping that he hadn't heard the last words the mech had ever spoken. "Just doing our duty."

"Heh." The racer shook his helm. "That's what everyone's doin', my mech," he said. "Just doin' our duty." Then he leaned his helm back against the wall, and his blue visor went dim once more.

Bluestreak didn't reply. Instead, he watched the Praxian, willing for his optics to light up again. And finally, he loosened the block on the bond.

Prowl was immediately there, his presence examining Bluestreak's, radiating relief and love and support. Bluestreak leaned into Prowl's strength, and Prowl sent him even more encouragement, buoying Bluestreak up with affection and care.

Bluestreak's optics had somehow slid closed as he basked in the love from his bond mate. It was only when he heard Fixit climbing to his pedes that he opened his optics again.

Fixit was standing over the injured mech, whose optics were still dark. The medic noticed Bluestreak looking up at him, and said, "Good thing you called me when you did, corporal. He'll have quite a fight in front of him but I think he'll make it." Fixit wiped his hands clean and looked down at Sideswipe. "All right, now let's see what you did to yourself **this** time."

When their shuttle landed in Iacon, Bluestreak was torn between wanting to make sure the injured Praxian was transferred to Medical safely, and meeting Prowl, who he could tell was nearby. His mate had taken to greeting Bluestreak on the tarmac after almost every mission, a habit that Prowl's superior accepted with remarkably good humour.

Streetwise had been right. The Prime **was** a good commanding officer, after all.

But Springer, who had arrived back in Iacon at the same time they had, was shouting at the unit to report for a debrief immediately, and Fixit was arguing that Sideswipe needed to be seen in Medical before he was debriefed, and Sunstreaker was yelling that he wasn't leaving Sideswipe's side, and the injured Praxian was still in stasis, and Bluestreak felt the start of a helmache just like Prowl used to get...

He walked off of the shuttle slowly and made his way to where Prowl was standing.

When he reached Prowl, he almost collapsed into his bond mate's arms. He rested his helm on Prowl's shoulder. "Hi," he murmured.

"Welcome back," Prowl said, hugging Bluestreak tightly. He waited for Bluestreak to say something, but when Bluestreak had nothing to say, Prowl added, "How did it go?"

"It was rough, just like you said it would be," Bluestreak said. He finally lifted his helm and kissed Prowl. "But we achieved our objective, and everyone made it back. Most of us are even in one piece."

Prowl was looking at something over Bluestreak's shoulder, and Bluestreak turned to see what he was staring at. A medical team was rolling a stasis pod out of the shuttle. As soon as the pod's wheels touched the tarmac, the team steered it towards the main Medical building on the base and took off with it at top speed. 

"One of your unit mates?" Prowl guessed, still staring after the group of medics.

Bluestreak shook his helm. "No. One of the infiltration team," he said. "He's Praxian."

"Really?" Prowl's sensor wings tipped upwards as he glanced at Bluestreak. "Interesting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick announcement: I've been pretty good at keeping up with posting, but I'm historically quite busy over the summer. (And yes, that will likely continue even with the pandemic! We get three months of summer and nine months of winter, so we need to make the most of it!) I have a few other fics that I've been wanting to think about/work on and I need to give myself the mental space and time to do that, **and** I don't want to burn myself out on this fic!
> 
> Therefore I'm going to officially drop back to posting a chapter every two weeks, at least over the summer. Once the weather turns chilly again we'll see where we're at.
> 
> This seemed like a really good place to start this, since we're starting a new part of the fic. Enjoy the fluff coming in the next few chapters!


	35. ...There's Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak meets the Praxian he rescued from the battlefield.

Bluestreak reached the end of the brief, paused, and then flicked back to the beginning again. He wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

The technology they were proposing to install in him was amazing... **If** it actually worked. The modification would allow him to remotely control a missile he launched from his shoulder cannons. That way he didn't have to get a lock on a target before firing a missile, or he could override a lock and steer it towards a new target. **And** he wouldn't be out of commission while doing that, either; the mod included a partition in his processor so that he could steer the missile and be still using his rifle or running or driving or anything else at the same time.

It was a stunning piece of technology. ...Again, **if** it actually worked. Bluestreak had his doubts. Plus, it meant doing some modifications to his processor, ones that were apparently untested. Prowl had experienced problems with his processor mods, problems that included irritability, fatigue and helmaches. Bluestreak wasn't eager to go through the same sort of issues that his bond mate had.

Bluestreak checked the name on the brief: Engineer Wheeljack. Bluestreak had never heard of him. He wondered if he was any good.

He was just preparing to read through the brief for a third time when a voice interrupted him. "Hi! You're Bluestreak, aren't you?"

Glancing up, Bluestreak saw a blue and red Praxian standing next to his table in the mess hall. He immediately recognized him as the injured mech from the extraction mission he'd run a month earlier. "Yes!" he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "And you're..."

The Praxian smiled broadly and held out his hand as he sat down. "I'm Smokescreen," he said, gripping Bluestreak's forearm. "And I know that I have you to thank for me still being online. That was pretty impressive what you did, carrying me across a battlefield like that." He tipped his helm to the side. "Like I said before I fell into stasis, you're stronger than you look."

Bluestreak laughed and gestured at the mounts for his shoulder cannons, which were still visible as small protrusions even when his cannons were stowed. "I'm in Artillery," he said. "Reinforced frame and an engine tuned for strength and endurance come with the job." He leaned back in his chair and set his data pad aside. "And let me guess, you're in Special Operations."

"Well..." Smokescreen rocked his helm from side to side as he hesitated, then shrugged. "Let's just say that I'm on loan to Special Ops a lot. I don't have a permanent posting, although Commander Jazz wants to change that." He waved his hand left, then right. "One month I'm with Special Ops, the next I'm with Infantry, and then I'm sent to work for Tactical. It just depends on where they need me."

"Really? I've never heard of someone not having a permanent posting." Bluestreak frowned. "Can I ask what your specialization is?"

A shadow flickered across Smokescreen's face, but his smile returned so quickly that Bluestreak thought he might have imagined it. As if by magic, a one-shanix chip appeared in Smokescreen's fingers, and he started rolling it over his knuckles in a smooth motion. "My official title is Diversionary Tactical Specialist. I specialize in obscuring the truth and leading the Decepticons off our trail." He held up the chip between his thumb and index fingers of his right hand. "I make the 'Cons look in the direction we want them to look, and when the time is right..." He turned his hand so that it was palm up, showing that the shanix chip had suddenly vanished. As Bluestreak gaped, Smokescreen lifted his left hand, displaying the chip between his fingers. "...I help our troops disappear and pop up where they're least expected."

Laughing in amazement, Bluestreak leaned forward on the table. "That was fantastic!" He smiled at Smokescreen. "So how exactly do you do it?"

"Mods, smarts, and a charming smile are my main weapons," Smokescreen said, his grin widening. "All but the smile are classified." He leaned back in his chair and went back to rolling the chip between his fingers. "But I could show you how to do this little trick, at least."

"Sure! I know someone who'd I’d love to pull that on," Bluestreak said. He wondered what Prowl would think of Smokescreen's little sleight-of-hand trick.

As soon as Bluestreak thought of Prowl, something in the pleased slant of Smokescreen's sensor wings, or something in the glint in Smokescreen's optics, something in the carefree way Smokescreen smiled at Bluestreak... **Something** suddenly made Bluestreak think of Barricade. And as soon as he thought of Barricade, he was struck by how similar Smokescreen's build was to Barricade's: his sharp chevron, the thick chinstrap framing his face, the positioning of his tires on his shoulders. Oh, his optics were different, and the shape of his face was different, and his voice was lighter and more melodious than Barricade's had been.

But slag if Smokescreen didn't summon up those memories and feelings just with his smile.

Adding to the strange sense of familiarity, the lower edges of Smokescreen's sensor wings were both painted with the black and gold stripes of mourning. Smokescreen had once been trined, and had lost both of his mates somehow.

Bluestreak's spark ached in sympathy. Over the past several years he had struggled with losing Barricade, first from his spark and then again permanently. Bluestreak couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to lose **both** of his bond mates. Even after all this time, Bluestreak still felt as though he was missing something from his life, as though his spark wasn't whole. He missed being part of a trine.

Prowl sent Bluestreak a brief questioning pulse of concern. Bluestreak knew Prowl was in a meeting right now, so he sent him back reassurance before putting a block up on the bond. Bluestreak didn't want to bother Prowl just because his processor was making connections where there was only coincidence.

As Bluestreak hesitated, Smokescreen's face took on a guarded look of concern. Bluestreak plastered on a wide smile; no sense in worrying this Praxian with Bluestreak's issues. "So what all have you been up to since we got you back to Iacon?" he asked.

"Not a lot," Smokescreen said. "I only just got out of Medical today." He shrugged, an easy smile lighting his face again. "And I think the only reason they let me go is that the medics got tired of my snark."

Bluestreak stared at Smokescreen for a moment. "But the mission to retrieve you was over a month ago!"

Smokescreen nodded. "Yup. I don't remember a lot of my time in Medical, to be honest. I spent at least two weeks in a CR chamber. Then they decanted me and I spent the next two weeks - or was it three? - in a medical berth." Smokescreen stopped flipping the chip between his fingers long enough to look at Bluestreak intensely, his optics bright. "I meant it when I said you saved my life, Bluestreak." He leaned forward, his smile gone and his blue sensor wings fanned out behind him. "Thank you."

Bluestreak ducked his helm slightly. "You're welcome." He shrugged. "I mean, I would have done it anyway, but when I saw you were a Praxian, I suddenly felt a lot more invested in making sure that you lived."

"Yeah." Smokescreen's sensor wings sagged, and his optics skimmed across Bluestreak's wings: one with bonding stripes, and the other with mourning stripes. "I think we've all been through a lot."

A heavy silence fell between them.

That silence stretched out until Bluestreak couldn't handle it any longer. "So, are you being redeployed anytime soon?" he asked.

Smokescreen blinked, and then shook his helm. "Nah. I've got at least three more weeks of enforced rest, which is going to drive me insane, but they said that the internal welds are still healing." He rolled his optics. "So no running, no transforming, no **anything**. After three weeks, I'll be reassessed." The smile returned.

Bluestreak's chronometer chimed at him: he was due in the yard for hand-to-hand combat practice. "Well then, I guess I'll see you around," he said, canting his wings downwards in regret. Bluestreak stood up and collected his data pad. "I'd love to chat some more later, if you want. It can be hard to make friends around here."

Smokescreen smiled up at Bluestreak, his optics crinkling at the corners. "I find it extremely hard to believe that you have trouble making friends, Bluestreak," he said. "But I'm looking forward to it!"

Bluestreak hesitated, unsure about the strange feeling he got in his spark when Smokescreen smiled at him like that. He flicked his sensor wings out and waved, trying to dismiss the feeling. "I'll see you later, then!" he called, and hurried off to the training yard.

* * *

It was late when Bluestreak slipped into their quarters that night. His training session had run long, and then he'd gotten into a long conversation with Sunstreaker about how Sideswipe's injury was healing. He could feel that Prowl was awake and concentrating, and he thought that his bond mate might have pulled out one of the puzzles he liked. But when Bluestreak opened the door to their quarters he was surprised to see Prowl sitting at the desk with a small stack of datapads next to him.

"I thought the Prime didn't want you working after hours anymore," Bluestreak said, closing the door behind him.

Prowl didn't look up, but sent Bluestreak a nudge of affection and greeting across their bond. "He doesn't, but we have an early meeting tomorrow. I need to have this analysis ready. I'm just putting the finishing touches on it, so it shouldn't be long."

"Promise?" Bluestreak asked. He remembered what happened the last time Prowl brought work back to their quarters: he'd spent the whole rest of the night crunching through a scenario instead of recharging.

"Yes. I promise," Prowl replied. It was reinforced by a brush of sincerity over the shared bond.

Satisfied, Bluestreak let himself fall onto the berth, scooting back so that he could lean against the wall and still face Prowl. Their quarters were cramped, especially with the desk in there, but it was still so much better than what they'd put up with in Rodion for so many years. "Did you at least fuel?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yes." Prowl pointed at the empty cube on the desk beside the datapads. He still didn't look up at Bluestreak, but a small smile lit his face. "I wanted to save you the trouble of dragging me down to the mess hall late at night."

"You know I would have." Bluestreak stretched his legs out in front of him and wiggled his pedes. Bluestreak noticed that there was a dent in his left bumper and wondered how long it had been there. It was something so minor that Medical wouldn't even make time for it, and he wondered if Sunstreaker would be able to pull the dent out for him. Then he wondered if he had any other dents or scrapes he needed to have fixed. He didn't want Smokescreen to think he didn't take care of himself.

At the thought of Smokescreen, Bluestreak looked back over at Prowl. "Oh, by the way, I met that Praxian today. You know, the one my unit rescued about a month ago."

Curiosity lit up the bond, and Prowl finally looked up from his work. "Oh? What's he like?" Prowl asked, tipping his sensor wings upwards.

Bluestreak shrugged, then smiled as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Smokescreen. "He's nice. Really nice. I had fun talking to him. It was sort of fun, just talking to someone new, even if we were talking about war stuff. We're going to try to meet up again later just to keep talking, since I had to leave for training."

"He's nice?" Prowl asked. When Bluestreak nodded, Prowl's smile shifted, becoming perceptive. Except Bluestreak couldn't figure out what Prowl was smiling about, since Prowl had narrowed the bond just enough to hide exactly what he found amusing. "Really. Just **nice**?"

Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side. "Yeah. He's nice. He's really easy to talk to." Bluestreak gave up trying to interpret the emotions he was feeling from Prowl and just asked. "Why? What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing," Prowl replied. "Just curious." He looked back down at his datapad, and after a moment the bond was wide open again. Strange. "What division is he in?" Prowl asked.

"That's the really weird thing," Bluestreak said. "He's not in a division, not permanently anyway. He said he has a role and gets loaned out to different divisions who need him. He said he's in Diversionary Tactics, or something like that."

Prowl looked up again. "Oh, he's a specialist!" he said. Prowl nodded to himself as if putting some facts together. "Yes, there are a few of those in the Autobots. They're outfitted with frame or processor modifications that allow them to serve in very specialized roles, although most of them tend to run missions for Special Ops. That would explain why he was with that infiltration team."

"What kind of special mods?" Bluestreak asked, remembering the one he'd been reviewing for his targeting systems earlier.

"They're usually defensive mods, things that would help them in a way that a regular weapon wouldn't," Prowl said.

"Oh," Bluestreak said. So the targeting mod wouldn't make him a specialist. Then he remembered something else Smokescreen had mentioned. "Smokescreen said that his mods were classified."

"Really? That's odd," Prowl said. "I didn't think any of the mods were classified. But maybe his are different." When Bluestreak shrugged in acceptance, Prowl held up a finger. "Oh, but that just reminded me of something I'd meant to tell you. I heard that your friend Hound – remember him? – is being considered for a specialist position."

"Hound! Yes, I remember him! Slag, I haven't thought about him in years," Bluestreak said. He looked up at the ceiling, recalling the jovial green mech who'd worked at Qhasel Logisics with him, alongside his bond mate Trailbreaker. It felt like a lifetime ago. "I wonder what he's up to. I hope Trailbreaker's all right." Bluestreak pulled the toy tankformer from its usual storage place in his subspace and started 'driving' it over his leg as he thought. Then he stopped and looked at Prowl again. "I thought you weren't involved in troop assignments."

"I'm not," Prowl said, looking back down at his data pad. "I just overheard two commanders discussing a briefing from the Borderlands, and Hound's name came up."

"What about Trailbreaker?"

Prowl shook his helm. "No idea. Like I said, it was something I just overheard in passing." He twitched a sensor wing at the same time that a flicker of irritation came over the bond.

"Sorry," Bluestreak said, sliding the tankformer over his knee. "I'll let you work."

As Prowl went silent, focusing back on his data pads, Bluestreak's thoughts drifted back to the modification to his targeting systems and processor. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought. Maybe he should ask one of the techs he knew about it, to see what they thought. Bluestreak wasn't sure he knew enough about his internal systems to make a decision on whether the mod would be a good idea.

Then his thoughts wandered back to Smokescreen. He wondered again what mods Smokescreen had, exactly. Then he recalled Smokescreen's quip about how his smile was the only thing he had that wasn't classified.

It was a good thing, too. It would have been a shame if Bluestreak couldn't have seen Smokescreen's smile. It was brilliant.

In fact, there was a lot that appealed to Bluestreak about Smokescreen in just the short time he'd had to speak with him. He was funny and outgoing, and he seemed fairly smart. Smokescreen's sincerity when he thanked Bluestreak for carrying him to the shuttle seemed genuine.

And of course, the other Praxian's smile made Bluestreak's spark seem to glow warmly.

Bluestreak looked over at Prowl, thinking how much he liked seeing his bond mate smile. Prowl's smiles were always slow things, seeming to take over his face as though they were on a stealth mission. But when they were directed at Bluestreak, they never failed to make him smile in return.

Bluestreak had a feeling that Smokescreen's smile would act the same way on him.

Then he shook his helm, shoving all thoughts about the other Praxian out of his processor so that he could focus on the one in front of him. He climbed off the berth and walked over to stand behind Prowl, wrapping his arms around Prowl's shoulders. "Are you done yet?" he asked, adding a purposefully plaintive lilt to his voice.

"I would be, if someone wouldn't stop interrupting me," Prowl said, but there was no heat in his words. He leaned back into Bluestreak's embrace, humming contentedly as Bluestreak kissed the top of his helm. "I thought you were going to let me work."

"You worked all day," Bluestreak said, nuzzling the top of Prowl's helm. Then he paused. "But if you really need me to leave you alone, I will."

"I suppose I could call this done, for now." Prowl set the datapad down and tipped his helm back to catch Bluestreak's lips. "Since there's no way for me to focus with you right here."

"Oh, don't stop on my account," Bluestreak purred. He traced the hinge lines down Prowl's back with his fingers, smiling at the way Prowl arched into his touch. "Don't let me distract you."

Prowl laughed then, standing up with a lurch. His optics were bright as he caught his hand behind Bluestreak's helm and pulled so that their helm crests touched. "You're being nothing **but** a distraction," Prowl growled, his other hand pulling Bluestreak's hips tight against his.

"What are you going to do about it?" Bluestreak asked, narrowing his optics and sending a challenge to Prowl over the bond.

"I'm going to show you what you mean to me," Prowl said, and with a swift move he shoved Bluestreak backwards onto the berth. In an instant Prowl was on top of Bluestreak, pinning him down. His sensor wings were flared out as if to hide Bluestreak from prying optics, and he lowered his helm so that his lips brushed Bluestreak's audial. "I'm going to show you that I am yours and you are mine, no matter what happens."

Before Bluestreak could ask Prowl what he meant, Prowl's lips met his again, and Bluestreak was lost in all of the love and devotion that flooded the space between their sparks.


	36. From Friendship...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Smokescreen strike up a friendship.

"I'm telling you, I'm about to tell those medics where they can shove their data cables," Smokescreen groused. "I have another whole **week** of doing nothing. No racing, no training, not even any 'facing. I was told I could lay quietly in a berth or sit in a chair, and walk slowly between those two points." He leaned his helm on his hand and idly spun his empty fuel cube on the table for a moment before stopping suddenly. He looked up at Bluestreak, his sensor wings tipped forward hopefully. "Say, you don't play Praxus Hold 'Em, do you?"

Bluestreak laughed and shook his helm. "No. I mean, I know how to play, but I'm terrible at it and I've sworn myself off of it. The last time I played was back in Rodion, and I lost way too much shanix. Prowl talked me out of ever playing games of chance like that."

Smokescreen leaned back and crossed his arms under his bumper. "Technically, every time you go out on a mission you're playing a game of chance," he said. His tone suddenly turned somber.

With a frown, Bluestreak shrugged. "I suppose so," he said. "I try not to think about that."

In the two weeks since he and Smokescreen been meeting for fuel, Bluestreak had grown to look forward to their evenings together. Smokescreen was great fun to talk to, but to Bluestreak he also felt like a puzzle that needed to be solved. Smokescreen seemed happy and cheerful on the surface, but every once in a while Bluestreak would catch a glimpse of a melancholy mech underneath his cheery façade. Fortunately, the cloud that came to hover over Smokescreen usually moved away quickly.

Like tonight.

"Sorry," Smokescreen said, and a smile reappeared on his face. "We get enough of the depressing slag around here. I shouldn't drag it into casual conversation."

"Sometimes it just sneaks in without you noticing," Bluestreak said with a nod. "I've had that happen. But it's all right. I think some mechs are too afraid to talk about the depressing stuff for fear of setting someone off."

"What do you mean?" Smokescreen asked.

"Oh, you know." Bluestreak waved his hand vaguely. "If you lose a unit member, mechs just say they're sorry for the loss, and then it's never brought up again. Or... Or Praxus. I've heard mechs mention it, but when they see that I'm listening, they change the subject." Bluestreak paused, watching Smokescreen closely. When Smokescreen simply waved his hand for him to continue, Bluestreak smiled and shook his helm. "There, see, I'm doing it myself, seeing how you might react."

Smokescreen hummed and nodded. "That's a fair reaction, though. At this point everyone's got some extra mental cargo they're hauling around. Being cognizant about how others feel about discussing a topic, and changing the subject if they think someone doesn't want to talk about it, is a really caring thing to do."

"I guess so," Bluestreak said, considering Smokescreen's words.

"I could ask you if you wanted to talk about those stripes you're wearing, for example," Smokescreen said gently, pointing at the black and gold mourning stripes on Bluestreak's left sensor wing. "But I wasn't sure if you'd want me to, especially in a public place like this." He gestured around the mess hall. "It's all right if you don't."

Bluestreak glanced around. "It's getting late and it's between shifts. It's not like there's anyone here." Then he narrowed his optics. "You know, you sound suspiciously like the counsellor we went to after..." He paused, and found that his voice wasn't filled with static. "After we lost Cade."

The shadow flickered across Smokescreen's face again, but vanished just as quickly. "Was Cade your bond mate?" Smokescreen asked. His voice still sounded gentle.

"Barricade. Yeah," Bluestreak said. He resisted the urge to touch that empty spot in his spark.

Smokescreen set the cube he'd been fiddling with aside and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He fanned out his wings, tipping them forward attentively. "If you want to tell me about him, I'd love to hear what you have to say. Or, if you'd rather talk about something else, that's all right too." He smiled. "No pressure either way."

Bluestreak felt his ventilations catch. When was the last time he'd talked to someone other than Prowl about Barricade? The twins knew about Barricade: during the rigours of Basic training Prowl and Bluestreak had told Sideswipe and Sunstreaker about their missing trine mate, and how he'd deserted them to join the Decepticons. For their part, the twins had accepted the tale without judgement, and gave the two Praxians more support than Bluestreak even thought that the rough Pit fighters could have been capable of. Prowl thought it might have been because of the twins' shared spark that they sympathized with Bluestreak and Prowl more than the other members of their training squad.

And Bluestreak and Prowl hardly ever talked about Barricade anymore, other than a mention or sharing a memory when it came up. Even now, after losing him permanently, Prowl still harboured anger at Barricade... Not only for what he did on that day in the Senate, but for what he did to their trine. As time passed, Bluestreak found himself keeping his thoughts about Barricade more and more to himself.

Other than the twins and Prowl, the only other Autobots who knew anything about Barricade, or that Bluestreak's bond mate had joined the Decepticons, were his unit leaders. They had access to his whole file, but none of them had ever asked about Barricade at all. And they certainly hadn't asked in the open, caring way that Smokescreen just had.

Prowl sent Bluestreak a nudge that felt like a question, and Bluestreak sent him back the equivalent of a nod.

Bluestreak was all right. And he found that he really did want to tell someone else about the Barricade he remembered.

So Bluestreak started talking. He told Smokescreen about how he and Barricade had met, and how Barricade had moved to Iacon, and how Bluestreak had followed after him. He told him about their bonding, and meeting Prowl. He told Smokescreen about Barricade's deep laugh and his mischievous sense of humour and his gorgeous singing voice and his penchant for racing and for action movies. He told him about how dedicated Barricade was to his trine, and how all he wanted to complete their family was a new build from Vector Sigma. And Bluestreak told Smokescreen about how that was where everything went wrong.

"You probably saw him, on the news when the Senate was attacked. He was part of that group." Bluestreak was stacking and restacking his empty fuel cube on top of Smokescreen's, then reversing it and placing Smokescreen's on top. "He joined the Decepticons. We never saw him again. And then Prowl received information saying that he'd been killed." He tried to balance one of the cubes on its corner, but of course it wouldn't stay upright. "It's only been six years since he died, but it feels like a lot a lot longer... Probably because it's been so long since the bond we had with him was broken. "

"I'm so sorry." Bluestreak looked up at Smokescreen, whose wings were low on his chair. Smokescreen had listened intently the whole time Bluestreak talked. "This war has ripped apart so many bonds. I can't imagine worrying that you might see your bond mate on the other side of your gun."

"That **was** something I'd always been afraid of, ever since I joined up," Bluestreak replied. "Fortunately I never had to do it. I'm really not sure what I would have done. Now I guess I'll never know, but I'm ok with not knowing... Even if I do still miss him." He pushed the cubes across the table towards Smokescreen. "And what about you?" he asked. He gestured at the stripes on one of Smokescreen's wings. "If you want to tell me, of course."

"Fair's fair, I guess," Smokescreen said. After glancing around and seeing that the mess hall was almost completely deserted, Smokescreen said, "I've gone a long time without talking about Praxus, or my mates." He looked at Bluestreak, and his blue optics were dim. "You're lucky you've got Prowl."

Bluestreak nodded solemnly. "I know I am."

Smokescreen carefully put the empty cubes side by side on the table. Then he pulled out his one-shanix chip and started flipping it between his fingers idly. "Trident was a mechanic at the hub. He mostly worked on large air transports, and he loved what he did. He liked getting his hands dirty." Smokescreen smiled. "He was also great at mixing up interesting engex drinks; he made one with high-grade layered with silver and zinc that he called a Praxian Sunrise."

"Like a play on a Tarnish Sunrise?" Bluestreak asked. When Smokescreen nodded, Bluestreak said, "I love those. I probably would have liked Trident's version."

"It was really good," Smokescreen said with a nod. He tossed the chip into the air and caught it with his other hand. "Halfsteel worked in Administration at the Assembly – mostly filing and data entry. He called it 'dull but well-paying'. He was always pragmatic, and he kept us organized and made sure that anything that had to be done did get done. But he hated my gambling. He called it a 'tax on mechs who are bad at math.'"

Bluestreak laughed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with him on that, then," Bluestreak said.

Smokescreen flashed a grin at Bluestreak. "The shanix you lose is just the cost of the game," he said. "It's no different than admission to a show. So long as you don't spend more than you can afford, it's just a game." Smokescreen stopped moving his fingers, catching the chip and holding it up in front of his optics. "The first and last time I took Halfsteel to the casino, he ended up winning one single shanix. This one." Smokescreen stared at the chip for a moment before continuing. "He gave it to me because he said he'd never win another, so he wanted me to hang onto it for him." Smokescreen lowered his hand and looked at Bluestreak. "He always thought it was funny I kept it, since he'd meant it as a joke. But then after Praxus..." Smokescreen shrugged. "Well, I couldn't let it go."

Bluestreak only hesitated for a moment before reaching into his subspace pocket and pulling out the toy tankformer. He set it on the table in front of him. "I gave this to Barricade after he passed one of his university courses, about a year after we first met. When he left us... After the whole thing with the Senate, he came back to our flat. He gave this back to me and said..." Bluestreak's voice faded to a bare whisper. "He said he'd be back." 

A warm hand settled over Bluestreak's. "I'm sorry, Bluestreak. I really am."

"Me too," Bluestreak said. "For you, I mean. Your mates sounded like great mechs." He quickly wiped his optics, and busied himself by rolling the toy back and forth across the table in front of him. "Do you have anything from Trident that you were able to hang onto?"

"No," Smokescreen said. He peered at the chip, rubbing a tiny smudge off of it with his thumb. "Anything of his I might have kept vanished along with Praxus." He shrugged. "But I do remember the formula for a Praxian Sunrise, so there's that."

Bluestreak spun the tankformer around on the table before putting it back into his subspace. "So were you in Praxus when it fell?" he asked.

"No?" Smokescreen's brow ridges furrowed and he tipped his helm to the side slightly. "No, I was in Altihex attending... Well, I was out of town." He started flipping the chip between his fingers again. "As soon as I felt the bonds-" His voice crackled and he reset his vocalizer noisily. "After I felt what happened, I tried to get back there. I hoped that maybe they'd just been injured. But all the roads were blocked. I went to Iacon instead, since that's where they were sending the injured but..." He shook his helm and vented softly. "After a few weeks in Iacon, after seeing all the damage reports from the city and hearing how few mechs survived, I finally came to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to see them again."

"I'm sorry."

Smokescreen shrugged, shook out his sensor wings and looked up at Bluestreak. "It worked out, I guess. Iacon turned out to be the place for me to enlist and start my grand new career as an Autobot." He gestured around the mess hall.

"Yeah, this is where I was sent after Praxus was attacked," Bluestreak said. "I guess the Iacon Medical Centre was the best equipped to deal with-"

"Hang on. You were **in** Praxus when it was attacked?" Smokescreen asked. His wings were tipped back and his optics were strangely bright. "You were there and you **survived**?"

"Yes. Both me and Prowl were." Bluestreak watched, slightly alarmed, as Smokescreen's expression shifted from shocked to angry. As Smokescreen balled his fists on the table, Bluestreak asked, "What... What's wrong?" Bluestreak canted his wings downward. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Smokescreen closed his optics and pulled in one full, deep vent, then another. "No. No, it's all right." His sensor wings, which had been quivering in anger, slowly stilled. Finally he opened his optics and looked at Bluestreak again. "I'm sorry," Smokescreen said, his voice carefully calm. "I'm just... There were so few survivors. Every time I hear of someone who made it out alive, I can't help but feel angry that it was them and not one of my bond mates."

"Oh." Bluestreak realized he'd leaned a bit away from Smokescreen, and as Smokescreen's posture relaxed, so did Bluestreak. "That makes sense, I guess. If it helps, I didn't get away completely unscathed. I used to be all silver." Bluestreak brushed his fingers down the dark grey plating of his chest. "Even after the burns healed, my nanites couldn't hold that colour anymore."

"Frag. No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's not all right. It's irrational. It's not your fault you made it out and they didn't." Smokescreen rubbed his face and took another deep vent. "That's not fair to you." And then, as if the very act of cycling his vents blew away all of the bad feelings, Smokescreen smiled. It looked genuine. "I **am** very happy that you survived. I mean, otherwise, who else would I talk to here?"

"I'm sure you'd find someone," Bluestreak said, finally relaxing completely. He thought he could understand Smokescreen's reaction to finding out that Bluestreak had survived the attack on Praxus. Bluestreak thought that had the situations been reversed, he might have felt the same way. "I enjoy talking to you."

The smile on Smokescreen's face softened. "Thanks, Bluestreak," he said, lifting his sensor wings. "I've liked talking to you, too."

Bluestreak shrugged and ducked his helm. He wasn't sure why, but something about the way Smokescreen smiled made him feel a little wobbly inside. "Maybe that's all either of us needed," he said, grasping for words so that they weren't sitting there in silence with each other. "Someone to talk to. Someone to just listen. It's... nice," he said.

Smokescreen glanced away, then sat up straight. With a shrug, he said, "If you ever need someone to just talk to, I'm absolutely willing to listen. And you're right. Sometimes that's all we need."

Bluestreak saw Smokescreen's optics flick to something behind him just a moment before he felt a hand on his shoulder. "When you weren't in our quarters, I thought this was where I'd find you," Prowl said. He smiled at Bluestreak. "Did you lose track of time?"

"Oh, frag," Bluestreak said when he checked his chronometer. "Sorry, Prowl! I had no idea it was that late." He looked at Smokescreen. "Aren't the medics going to give you grief for staying up so late?"

"Let them," Smokescreen said with a casual wave of his hand. "What are they going to do, bolt me to a berth?"

"They might. You've obviously never met our new Chief Medical Officer." Prowl leaned over the table and extended his arm. "You must be Smokescreen." When Smokescreen nodded and grasped his forearm, Prowl said, "I've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Prowl."

"I've heard a lot about you, too," Smokescreen said. He smiled at Bluestreak for a moment before looking up at Prowl again. He tipped a wing upwards questioningly. "Um, I wasn't supposed to stand and salute, right? Since you're an officer?"

"No. I'm off duty," Prowl said. He put his hand back on Bluestreak's shoulder. "I'm just here to collect my forgetful bond mate and make sure he gets some recharge. Or did he forget his briefing session tomorrow?" Prowl smiled down at Bluestreak.

"I didn't forget," Bluestreak said, but he climbed to his pedes. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked Smokescreen.

"Sure. It's not like I'm allowed to go anywhere," Smokescreen said as he stood up. It might have only been because Bluestreak had spent so long chatting with Smokescreen over the past weeks that he noticed the subtle wince Smokescreen made. "I **should** probably get back to my room before the medics come to check on me. Have a good night. It's nice to meet you, Prowl!"

Bluestreak waited as Prowl collected his ration, then they walked back to their quarters together. "I guess I did lose track of time a bit," Bluestreak said as they walked. "But you could have pinged me when you realized that I was still here. I could have brought your ration to our quarters."

"I figured you were talking to Smokescreen, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to meet him," Prowl said, a small smile on his lips.

Narrowing his optics, Bluestreak looked at Prowl. Over the bond, there was only the feeling of a soft indulgence and a gentle sense of amusement, just like there always was whenever the subject of the new Praxian on base came up. When they reached their quarters, Bluestreak waited for the door to close before saying, "All right. What gives? What do you find so funny every time I mention Smokescreen?"

Prowl set his cube down on the desk. "You like him."

"Well, yeah, of course I do," Bluestreak said. "He's interesting and fun to talk to. And it would be nice to have a new friend on base."

"No, I mean you **like** him. You're interested in him." Prowl grabbed Bluestreak's hand and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're allowed, you know. I know how much you wanted a trine, and how much you're missing having one now. You know I'd never keep you from pursuing that."

Bluestreak flared his sensor wings out. "I'm not looking for another mate, Prowl," Bluestreak said. He flicked his left wing pointedly. "I haven't painted over my stripes, in case you haven't noticed."

"You don't have to. That's a formality and you know it," Prowl said.

"Well, Smokescreen hasn't painted over his stripes either." Bluestreak stepped away from Prowl, walking the few paces to their berth before sitting down. "He lost his whole trine in Praxus. I'm not about to ask him out when he's showing that he's not ready." He turned his helm, looking at the mourning stripes on his wing. "I'm not sure I'm ready, either," he added quietly.

Prowl sat next to him on the berth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Prowl said, taking Bluestreak's hand again. "It's just that every time you think about Smokescreen, or you're in the mess hall chatting with him, I can feel how happy he makes you. And if you're content with him just being a friend, that's all right." He waited until Bluestreak looked up at him before continuing. "But I wanted to let you know that if your friendship develops into something more, I'm more than happy to support you in that."

"Thanks," Bluestreak said, leaning into Prowl's shoulder. "But really... We're just friends."

"I know," Prowl murmured. Bluestreak couldn't see Prowl's face, but it sounded suspiciously like he was smiling again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good news... I made some incredible progress with this fic over the past month. Before posting this chapter I had nine chapters in my backlog, and I'm still writing as fast as I can.
> 
> I'm going to switch back to posting once a week, and we'll see how it goes! This chapter's a bit shorter, but the one after is longer, so I think it all balances out. :)


	37. ...to Something More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bluestreak is injured, his friendship with Smokescreen deepens.

Bluestreak tried to focus on the lights flashing by, but his optics didn't seem to be working right. Something heavy was attached to his face, covering his helm vents and mouth. He could feel more equipment hooked into his medical port, and hands kept touching him. His right arm was numb, and a persistent pain radiated from under his bumper. He turned his helm slightly to the side, trying to make sense of the blurs of motion around him, but whatever was hooked onto his face kept him from moving his helm too much.

So instead, he listened to the words he heard.

"Four-wheeled ground frame, Artillery. Fuel pump is fractured and leaking into internals. Air exchangers are offline. Right arm debrided from shoulder casing to wrist, hand is missing, protoform damage unknown. Medical overrides and diagnostic systems are non-responsive. He's on ventilation support, supplementary fuel and a 5Mb pain block localized for his right side."

"Primus, did a combiner step on him or something?"

"No, that was the first mech we brought in. This one was just **thrown** by the combiner."

"Frag. All right, let's get him hooked up. Pipette, get his auxiliary sensors shut down, as many as you can manage, until we can get him into stasis." A face swam into view, its features distorted by the artifacts in Bluestreak's vision. "Corporal? I'm Doctor Ratchet. I know you can't talk right now, but nod if you understand me."

It felt like a gargantuan effort, but Bluestreak somehow managed to move his helm down and back up.

"Good. Normally we'd have you in stasis by now, but your systems aren't accepting our overrides. Until we can get that fixed, you're going to be online. We'll be shutting off as many of your sensory inputs as possible so you're not in too much pain, but we can't shut down everything. This is going to hurt, and I'm sorry for that. Do you understand?"

Bluestreak could feel parts of his armor being removed and what felt like a cool wash of liquid being run through his lines, but he nodded again. His HUD was offline, so he had no idea what all was wrong, but the cooling sensation was dulling all of the pain he'd been feeling as it flowed through him.

"All right." The doctor's face vanished, and Bluestreak heard more orders called out using terms he didn't understand.

Instead of trying to parse the strange words, Bluestreak let himself fall back into the support that Prowl was sending him: strength, determination, and love. It was better than focusing on the pain wracking his frame.

Bluestreak's processor felt scrambled, and he tried to piece together what had happened. The mission had been going smoothly. It was a fairly routine trip to the front lines, along the border with Kaon, to create a distraction big enough so that another unit could slip into Decepticon territory unnoticed. Things had been going well until suddenly the ten to twelve Decepticons they'd been facing became five to seven Decepticons... And one gigantic combiner.

The Autobots had first heard of the combiner technology a few years before; in fact, Bluestreak's unit had helped secure the key schematics from a lab in Blaster City. Bluestreak had even heard that the Autobots were working on creating their own combiners now. But this was the first time he'd seen one in person, and the results had been disastrous.

Bluestreak recalled the chaos of battle changing into a frantic scramble away from the gigantic mech. He remembered screams, and panicked calls over comms, and a crushing pain in his arm and a confusion of motion and-

"These cables are crushed beyond help. I'm going to have to cut this whole section off."

Even with his sensors dulled, the pain that ripped through Bluestreak's arm whited out his optics.

And then Prowl was there with him in his spark: comfort and reassurance. Oh, it was streaked through with worry, but even then Bluestreak was able to bury himself in the feeling that he was not alone.

He balled up all of his love and gratitude and threw it through the bond back at Prowl. _Thank you for being here. Thank you for loving me._

_Always. I'll **always** be here for you._

"Aha! Got it." The doctor's face appeared in Bluestreak's vision again. "Good news, corporal. We got your medical overrides back online, so... We'll see you later."

The last thing Bluestreak remembered as his agonized systems stepped down and he slipped into stasis was Prowl's presence wrapping him in an embrace of encouragement and comfort.

* * *

"We thought we had good intelligence on where all of the Decepticon combiner teams were," Prowl said. The twisting knot of anxiety that Bluestreak had been sensing from Prowl seemed to have finally loosened, but he still hadn't let go of Bluestreak's hand. "Obviously we were wrong." 

"You've said before that your tactical analyses are only as good as the intelligence you get," Bluestreak said. He smiled at Prowl. "I hope you don't think I'm blaming you or anything!"

"I can tell you're not," Prowl said. He glanced at Bluestreak's right arm, bared of its plating all the way down to the struts. Even the hydraulics had been stripped away. "I just wish that you hadn't been on the receiving end of that intelligence failure." Prowl's sensor wings twitched up and down in agitation. "We've been having more and more cases of faulty intelligence lately. The Decepticons have become very good at keeping things from us."

Bluestreak frowned. "It could have been worse," he said, thinking of Pointblank. Based on what Sideswipe had told him, the other gunner didn't even have a chance. Instead of coordinating his movements with Bluestreak, Pointblank had gone running in and...

Well. Bluestreak was not surprised at what had happened to his partner.

Using his other hand, Bluestreak lifted his limp right arm and peered at the severed mount at his wrist. "They fixed up the leak in my fuel pump, so I'm basically just waiting on a hand now. Well, a hand and all the equipment for my arm. They said they should have a hand ready for me in a few more days. All of the rest of it should be fixed up pretty soon." He smiled up at his bond mate. "At least I didn't lose my legs this time. That was slag; it took them forever to fabricate all of the parts they needed."

Prowl shook his helm gently. "Don't remind me," he said. His sensor wings quivered slightly behind him. "I'm just glad that the new Chief Medical Officer himself is in charge of your care. Ratchet's reputation is stellar. He was an excellent choice for the position." He began lifting Bluestreak's remaining hand to his lips to kiss the back of his fingers, but then froze. Over the bond, Bluestreak felt a flash of irritation, followed by resolve. "I just got a ping from the Prime's office. I hate to do this, but..."

"Go on," Bluestreak said, pulling his hand free of Prowl's and giving him a gentle shove. He sent Prowl all of the pride and reassurance he was feeling. "The Prime needs you, and I'm sure it's important. I'll be fine here, especially with all these doctors hovering around."

"All right. I'll come back as soon as I can." As Prowl stood, he looked up and smiled. Prowl's irritation was replaced by a familiar curl of amusement that wafted over the bond. "But right now it looks like you have another visitor."

"Only if I'm not interrupting anything." Bluestreak looked up just in time to see Smokescreen pause at the foot of his berth. "I'm not, am I?" he asked, flashing a smile at Prowl.

"You are not. I was just leaving." Prowl leaned over the berth and gave Bluestreak a kiss. "I'll see you later, love."

"I know you will," Bluestreak said, and watched as Prowl slipped past Smokescreen with a nod. Bluestreak gestured at the chair that Prowl had just vacated. "Go on, have a seat!"

"Thanks." Smokescreen sat down with a smile. "I've wanted to get in here earlier, but you've had a steady stream of visitors every time I've come by. You're a popular mech."

Bluestreak shrugged. "It was mostly my team mates and my commanding officer. I also had a few intelligence officers come see me for a debrief once the doctors let them in." He thought for a moment. "And Prowl, of course."

"Prowl. Yeah." Smokescreen's sensor wings flicked once. "I'm not sure if anyone told you this, but right after they brought you in, your mate practically wore a groove in the floor outside of Medical." Smokescreen crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. "After about twenty hours the Prime himself finally ordered him back to your quarters for some rest."

"I'm not surprised, to be honest," Bluestreak said. He remembered the intense fatigue he'd felt from Prowl when their bond was reestablished. Bluestreak frowned. "I know he worries a lot when I'm out on a mission. I've been on long deployments, which was hard, but I think the types of missions I'm running now are even harder on him because he knows the risks are greater." He blew air from his vents. "It's one of the things I worry about, if I get taken out on one of these missions. I'm worried that he'd just..." Bluestreak waved his hand vaguely, trying to figure out how to put his misgivings into words. "I'm worried he'd just... stop."

"Have you talked to him about this?" Smokescreen asked.

"Not really. What could I say?" Bluestreak asked. "I know he worries about me. He's said so. There's not a lot we can do about it with the war going on."

"No, I meant telling him how you're worried about him coping if something happens to you," Smokescreen said. He glanced at Bluestreak's arm, stripped down to the protoform, and added, "Something they can't fix, I mean." He tipped his helm to the side slightly. "Maybe there's someone else he can confide in. Maybe he can find someone he'll be able to lean on in case something **does** happen to you."

Bluestreak shrugged again. "I could try that, I guess, but I'm not sure how much that would help. It's not like there's a lot of mental health support around these days." He looked up at the monitors that were hooked into his medical ports. "Mostly it seems like they just patch you up, stick a gun back in your hand, and point you in the right direction again."

Smokescreen made a disgruntled sound. "Yeah."

Frowning back down at his missing hand again, Bluestreak thought about the last time he'd spoken to a counsellor, just before Praxus fell. Both Prowl and Bluestreak had resisted the idea of seeing a counsellor, but Prowl's precator had insisted. "I can't even imagine what the two of you are going through, being separated from your bond mate under these circumstances," Barrage had said when he offered to pay for the therapy. "Just go. I'll cover everything. I just want to make sure the two of you are all right."

So they had gone, alone and together, and Bluestreak finally had to admit that it **had** helped. Oh, Bluestreak had still wrestled with grief and guilt, and Prowl had still been angry and resentful, but they were able to see ways to deal with their emotions in ways that were healthy.

Bluestreak had always wondered how things might have been different if they'd been able to talk Barricade into speaking to a counsellor before he had joined the ranks of Cybertron First.

After a few minutes, Bluestreak realized that Smokescreen had fallen silent. Bluestreak looked up at him again. The blue and red mech's wings had fallen against the back of the chair, and he was staring off into space with a small frown on his face. 

"Smokescreen?" Bluestreak asked, wondering if he'd touched a sore spot.

Bluestreak's words seemed to startle Smokescreen, and he glanced at Bluestreak quickly. "Sorry," he said, his lips quirking back up into a smile that looked automatic. "Just thinking about what you said. You're right." His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "I guess so long as you're shooting in the right direction they figure you're fine."

Something in Smokescreen's expression nagged at Bluestreak. "Are **you** fine?" Bluestreak asked.

And just like that, the shadow that had been hanging over Smokescreen seemed to evaporate. His frown was replaced by a cocky smile, one that seemed genuine. "Oh, yeah! I'm better than fine!" he exclaimed. He stretched his arms over his helm, spreading his fingers wide and spinning his shoulder tires. "I was given the go-ahead yesterday to transform, although I was given a stern lecture about racing." He leaned back in the chair, propping a pede up on the side of Bluestreak's berth. "It felt really good to finally have my wheels under me again."

Choosing not to say anything about Smokescreen's sudden change in mood, Bluestreak smiled. Now probably wasn't the time to force Smokescreen to dwell on whatever was bothering him. "That's great!" he said. "I wish I could be out there on the track with you."

Smokescreen nodded. "Yeah. Our timing is pretty slag, isn't it?" he asked, shaking his helm. "I also got released for light duty. That's basically just monitors and comm duty, inventory, boring slag like that, but at least I finally get to **do** something." He leaned forward and gave Bluestreak a gentle nudge on his shoulder. "And I promise to do the same thing you did for me: keep you company in my off hours, at least while your bond mate is on duty." His smile wavered then, just slightly, but just enough for Bluestreak to notice. "If you want me to, of course," Smokescreen added.

"That would be great," Bluestreak said, tipping his sensor wings upwards. "I'd appreciate that."

And when Smokescreen returned his smile, Bluestreak took note of how bright his optics were.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Bluestreak's days settled into a comforting routine.

He had been released from Medical just a day after having his new hand attached. However, due to the damage he'd sustained to his fuel pump, he was still under strict orders to do nothing even remotely strenuous. Prowl had promised the doctor that he would ensure that Bluestreak abided by the restrictions placed on him.

In the morning, Bluestreak would refuel with Prowl before returning to their quarters and spending most of the day reading old novels and watching shows that he'd seen a hundred times before. The base's entertainment library was severely lacking.

In the afternoon, he'd make his daily trip to Medical for his checkup. They'd run diagnostics on him, check the welds on his wrist, do a deep scan of his fuel pump, and then send him away again. A few times he asked when he'd finally be free to join his unit on missions. The answer he always received from Ratchet was, "You'll be released when I'm sure that you're not going to gutter the minute your team needs you the most."

Bluestreak wasn't sure what he did to rate having the base's Chief Medical Officer looking after him, but he didn't dare do anything to upset him. The CMO had a reputation of not having much of a sense of humour.

After his checkup, Bluestreak would return to the mess hall and wait for Smokescreen to meet him, which he always did. After spending most of the day alone, it was a relief to have someone to talk to, and Bluestreak relished Smokescreen's easy-going and laid-back attitude.

Smokescreen was slowly being given more and more duties. He told Bluestreak how wonderful it was to finally be able to transform and race again (something which Bluestreak listened to jealously), and how he had to spend several hours on the practice range each day to bring his shooting skills back up to where they needed to be. He was also assigned to progressively longer patrols around the outskirts of Iacon, under supervision from Medical, to test his endurance for longer drives.

"It won't be too long before they declare me fit for duty, I'm guessing," Smokescreen said one day during their daily chats. "Although I think there's some politics happening as to my assignment." Smokescreen shrugged. "Commander Jazz wants me for Special Ops again, but Tactical apparently wants me for their own purposes."

"Where would you prefer to go?" Bluestreak asked.

Smokescreen hummed in thought before answering. "I'm not sure. Maybe it doesn't matter. I think I've seen pretty much every large Autobot base at this point, and they're all sort of the same. To be honest, I've been moved around so much during the war that it's been sort of nice being in one place for a while." He smiled. "And the company has really helped, too."

And now Bluestreak couldn't ignore the happy spin his spark gave when Smokescreen turned that smile on him.

"I don't know what to do," Bluestreak said that evening. He was sprawled backwards on their berth, his arm thrown across his optics, as Prowl finished up some work at the desk. "You **know** how I feel when he smiles at me. And yes, I admit to being dense in the processor when it comes to what my spark wants. But I don't know what to do about it."

"You could just ask him out," Prowl said mildly.

Bluestreak's engine gave a frustrated rev and he sat up to look at Prowl. "He hasn't painted over his mourning stripes. If he was interested in being open to dating, that's what he'd do, but he hasn't yet, and I don't want to ask him out if he's not ready."

Prowl put down the datapad he was working on and looked at Bluestreak. "You haven't painted over yours, either," Prowl said. He pointedly looked at Bluestreak's left wing where the black and gold mourning stripes were still displayed. "Maybe if you did, it would give Smokescreen a hint."

As his engine gave another growl, Bluestreak slumped back onto the berth and covered his optics again. "I'm not sure I'm ready to," he muttered.

"But you're still interested in him," Prowl said. He was stating a fact, not asking a question.

"Yes, but..." Bluestreak's voice faded out. "I don't want to just remove my stripes without... I don't know. It feels like painting over them is like painting over everything Cade meant to me."

Bluestreak looked up as he felt the berth shift, and saw Prowl sitting next to him. "Anything you feel for Smokescreen will never erase your time with Barricade, or anything you felt for him," Prowl said quietly. "Just because you only have two wings doesn't mean that limits how many mechs you can care about."

"I know," Bluestreak said. He flung his arms out sideways on the berth in frustration. "I know! This is ridiculous. It's just paint. What is wrong with me?"

Prowl hummed. "But it's not just paint to you."

Bluestreak rolled his optics. "I know!"

"Would it help if I painted over mine first?" Prowl asked.

"I don't know!"

Through his frustration, Bluestreak could feel Prowl thinking. Before Bluestreak could tell Prowl to stop trying to analyze his indecision, Prowl asked, "Let's say you did ask him out. What do you want him to say?"

Bluestreak didn't even have to think about his answer before giving it. "I'd want him to say yes." He chewed on his lower lip before adding, "I'd want him to be interested back." He looked up at Prowl again and smiled, shaking his helm. "But you already knew that."

Prowl smiled, and gratification washed through the bond. "Then I think you have the answer for what you need to do."

"Yeah." Bluestreak sat up and pulled Prowl into a hug and planted a kiss on his nose, happy to have come to a decision with a plan of action. "Thank you for helping me see through my muddled feelings." He watched as Prowl stood up and walked back to the desk. "I'll ask him as soon as I'm cleared to go driving. I was thinking of taking him to Axen's." A week before he'd been injured, Bluestreak had taken Prowl to the A'ovan's café where he'd bought the rust sticks. Bluestreak hoped to get Prowl back there again, since getting Prowl away from work – even for a little while – seemed to do him some good.

"Hopefully it's not too long before you're cleared to drive," Prowl said. "I have a feeling as soon as he's fit for full duty he'll be deployed."

The thought of losing the chance to even test the road to see if Smokescreen might be interested in him made Bluestreak pause. "Do you know where he'll end up? Is there..." He flicked his sensor wings indecisively. "Is there any way you can pull some strings to get him to stay here?"

"No. You know that," Prowl replied. "I'm not involved in troop assignments at all. I can't even make recommendations for **your** assignments, let alone someone to whom I'm not bonded."

"Right." Bluestreak leaned back on the berth once more and vented softly. "I'll ask him out as soon as I'm cleared to drive. Hopefully that's soon."

But the next evening, Smokescreen was late. Bluestreak sipped at his fuel and read the novel he'd already read three times before (an adventure story about three mechs exploring the depths of the Argon Sea), looking up at the door every time someone walked into the mess hall.

As it grew later and later, Bluestreak considered pinging Smokescreen. Not to nag! Of course not. Smokescreen had no obligation to meet him for fuel. Bluestreak was just wondering where Smokescreen was. He didn't want to miss him. Maybe he got caught up someplace. Maybe...

Bluestreak frowned into his fuel before looking back down at the novel.

It was almost time for Bluestreak to head to his quarters when Smokescreen entered the mess hall. He bypassed the fuel dispenser and made his way right to where Bluestreak was sitting. He wore a wide smile. "Holy slag, I'm glad you're still here. I didn't want to miss you!"

The surge of happiness Bluestreak felt upon hearing those words must have reached Prowl, since Bluestreak received a brush of amusement in reply. Bluestreak smiled at Smokescreen as he sat down across from him. "I was wondering where you were," he said, setting his reading material aside. "Did your patrol run long?"

"No. I got some good news, though! I've been cleared for full duty, finally," Smokescreen said. His sensor wings flicked excitedly behind him. "No more dusty patrols around the city, no more staring at monitor screens, and most importantly, no more inventory!"

Bluestreak felt a sliver of disquiet work its way into his spark. "That **is** good news," he said. "You've told me how boring those patrols are."

"They're the worst," Smokescreen said agreeably. "But there's more. The reason why I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you tonight is that I'm getting shipped out tomorrow. Commander Jazz found out I was cleared for duty and got me an assignment immediately. Our transport's scheduled to leave before first light." He held his hand out, resting it on the table palm up. "So I wanted to make sure I got a chance to say goodbye, and thank you."

As he looked at the hand Smokescreen offered him, Bluestreak felt all of his plans and hopes crumble like shards of crystal. "Tomorrow, huh?" Bluestreak said softly. He hoped that his voice sounded steady. He mustered as much of his concentration as he could, burying all of the disappointment he was feeling and narrowing the bond with Prowl, before smiling at Smokescreen. "That's... great!" He laid his hand on top of Smokescreen's. "Hopefully you got assigned to something interesting."

Smokescreen's hand tightened around Bluestreak's for a moment before he spoke. "I wish I'd gotten a chance to play Praxus Hold 'Em against you before I got deployed," Smokescreen said, the corners of his mouth still turned upwards.

"Why?" Bluestreak asked, distracted by the feeling of Smokescreen's warm hand under his.

"Because you're a **terrible** liar." Smokescreen brought his other hand up and cupped them both around Bluestreak's. "I'm sorry to be leaving you in the lurch like this. I honestly didn't think they'd clear me for duty so fast, considering how bad my injury was. I'd hoped that we'd have a bit more time together."

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen's face, then at the mourning stripes on the edges of Smokescreen's sensor wings. He dipped his own behind him. "Yeah," Bluestreak said. "Me too." He curled his fingers slightly, weaving them through Smokescreen's. "When I got cleared to drive, well... There's this place down by the remains of the Decagon that I wanted to take you to. The A'ovan who runs it makes really good rust sticks and bismuth squares, and I thought that... I mean, I was hoping that..." Bluestreak shrugged, then put on as big of a smile as he could manage. "But we're at war, right? Stuff happens. Things don't always work out."

Smokescreen was silent for a full minute, looking down at their entwined fingers, before replying. His voice was so quiet that at first, Bluestreak wasn't sure if he was actually talking to him. "Yeah. We're at war. But that doesn't mean life needs to stop." Smokescreen finally looked up at him, and there was a strange glint in his optics. "So this place you wanted to take me... Do they have zinc tarts? I haven't had one of those in ages."

"I'm not sure," Bluestreak said. He mentally ran through the things he'd seen in Axen's display case. "But I know the owner takes requests, if he can get the ingredients."

The smile slowly returned to Smokescreen's face. "Then let's call it a date," he said. "I'm due back in about two months. If you're still assigned here, then let's make this happen."

Bluestreak blinked as he parsed what Smokescreen was saying. "A... date?" he repeated, wanting to make sure he'd heard correctly. He slowly released his grip on the bond. From Prowl, Bluestreak received another brush of amusement and affection.

Smokescreen's wings fluttered behind him again. "Yeah," he said. "If that's what you want it to be."

"Yes. Absolutely." Bluestreak allowed his own wings to flutter along with Smokescreen's. "It's a date."


	38. Keeping Operational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Smokescreen is deployed, Bluestreak tries to keep himself busy, and meets up with an old friend.

When Smokescreen's transport left the next morning, Bluestreak suspected that the next two months were going to seem interminably long.

He wasn't wrong.

"Where are you being deployed?" Bluestreak had asked Smokescreen the evening he broke the news. They were walking back to the dormitory buildings very slowly, neither of them willing to say the final goodbye too soon.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Smokescreen said with a grin. Then he shrugged, his expression sobering again. "But seriously, it's not just one place. I think the ground is shifting in the war. We're making some targeted extractions, pulling out some of the smaller units that have been embedded in Decepticon territory. Some of those mechs have been working deep under cover, or they've been supporting listening posts, or manning remote stations watching for 'Con activity... That sort of thing." Smokescreen looked up at the sky over the compound, where a crescent Luna One was already high over them. "If he was ever around at the same time I was, I might have asked Prowl what the overall plan is." He frowned. "I have a bad feeling about what's happening."

Bluestreak thought for a moment before replying. "Whenever I'm sent on a mission, Prowl tells me the chances of success." He tipped a sensor wing upwards. "If you want, I can ask him about yours and... I don't know, meet you at the port before you leave tomorrow."

Smokescreen shook his helm, smiling again. "Never tell me the odds!" he said. "I think I work better if I don't know how bad my chances really are." Stopping outside of the dormitory building, Smokescreen reached out and took Bluestreak's hand. "I can't promise that I'll see you again. But I hope that I do."

"Same," Bluestreak said. He hesitated, then said, "If you don't want to know the odds, can I at least wish you luck?"

Smokescreen smiled, his wings fluttering behind him again. "Absolutely. And thanks, for everything."

Then Smokescreen had stepped back, lifted his hand in a wave, and disappeared into the building.

Ratchet finally cleared Bluestreak for light duty after being pestered about it for almost a week. "Fine!" Ratchet said, throwing his hands in the air. "If your fuel pump springs a leak, don't come crying to me." Then he paused, and added, "Actually, **do** come see me right away if your HUD shows a leak. I don't want any other the other doctors thinking I did a shoddy repair job on you."

As soon as he was given the green light to do so, Bluestreak threw himself into the boring tasks he was given, looking for anything to keep him processor occupied. Monitor duty was dull, so he kept mental tallies on which classes of mechs he saw most often in which monitor; tankformers were surprisingly common on the race track in the early morning for some reason. Inventory was slightly more interesting, and Bluestreak figured out a faster way to sort the ammunition and containers of battery packs so that they could be counted more efficiently.

But the best was when he was allowed back onto the target range.

He remembered the first time he'd stepped onto a firing range as a youngling, accompanied by Lightbraid. He was sure she'd only taken him there because his other two mentors were busy, but she got him sized for a rifle and showed him the basics of safety, aiming, and firing. Bluestreak wasn't sure who was more surprised when he hit every single target on the beginner program the first try: him or his oraculi.

Over the course of the afternoon, Lightbraid had assigned him progressively more difficult programs, until he was clearing the advanced level with a fair amount of proficiency. He remembered the small crowd that had gathered around his firing stall, cheering every time he made another perfect shot. He remembered the trip back home, and how his usually staid ora had excitedly told her bond mates how their new build was a natural sharpshooter. He also remembered her disappointment when he said he wasn't really interested in using those talents for any sort of specialization.

Bluestreak wondered what Lightbraid would think of his role in the war.

But now, Bluestreak relished his time on the target range. There was something about letting his processor run through every single target that made time just fly by. Looking to spend even more time on the range, Bluestreak asked about the advanced missile technology that he'd been reading about a month or so before. But the range technician just shook his helm at Bluestreak's question. "That project's been put on hold indefinitely," he said. "Wheeljack's been put onto something bigger and he didn't have time to test the tech. And trust me... You don't want **any** of Wheeljack's inventions installed in you before they're fully tested." He waved his arm in the air, showing off the three-clawed hooks that were attached where a hand usually was.

Bluestreak decided not to ask.

Of course, he couldn't spend all his time on the target range. With Prowl still working long hours, Bluestreak found himself spending entire evenings alone in the mess hall, or sitting in some quiet corner outdoors in the compound. He wished that Tutela Unit would return from their current assignment; at least then he'd have Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to talk to. As it was, Bluestreak ended up spending long hours alone, just reading. At least he'd found a new collection of books to read; the Polyhexian mythologies that Smokescreen had given him just before he'd left were especially interesting.

One evening, Bluestreak was sitting in his regular corner of the mess hall, burning through the second to last of Smokescreen's books. He decided that he would read the last book much slower, making sure to savour it.

He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't notice the mech walking up to him until he heard his name. "Bluestreak! Am I ever glad to see a friendly face!"

Bluestreak's helm snapped up. As soon as he saw the mech standing beside his table, he leapt to his pedes. "Hound!" he exclaimed, grabbing the green mech's arm enthusiastically. Bluestreak's sensor wings flicked up and down at his excitement at seeing his old coworker. "It's been ages! Ever since-" Bluestreak's voice faltered slightly, remembering exactly how long it had been. "It's so good to see you," Bluestreak finally said.

Hound was holding a cube of fuel in his other hand. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Bluestreak pulled out the chair beside him, and sat down in his own seat. "How have things been? How's Trailbreaker? Is he here, too?"

Hound had always been a fairly happy, easy-going mech. At Qhasel Logistics, he had been popular among both the organic employees and the mechs. He got along well with everyone, and always had something cheerful to say or an encouraging word for someone who needed it.

But now, Hound stared at the cube of fuel in his hand. "Things have been... Well, you know, they're going," he said with a shrug and a smile that didn't reach his optics. He looked up and gestured at Bluestreak's shoulders. "I almost didn't recognize you with your new armor. You're looking really good."

Hound's silhouette had changed as well. His front bumper was reinforced, his plating looked thicker than Bluestreak remembered, and a large missile launcher was installed on his right shoulder. But what Bluestreak noticed the most was the expression on his face.

He looked lost.

With his spark stuttering in dread, Bluestreak reached over and put his hand on the table next to Hound's. "Hound... Trailbreaker? Is he..."

Hound's optics widened slightly. "Oh. Oh! He's alive," he said, giving Bluestreak another one of those not-smiles. "He's just... We were sent back here so he could get repaired."

Bluestreak was torn between wanting to sag back in his chair in relief that Hound's other half was still alive, and concern for his friends. "That's good," Bluestreak said. He wished Smokescreen was there with him; the handsome mech seemed to have a knack for getting mechs to talk. "I hope the damage wasn't too bad." He flashed an encouraging smile at Hound. "I'm getting over a serious repair myself, but the doctors here are really good."

Hound fidgeted with his fuel cube, still not drinking from it. "It's just an injury to his lower leg," Hound said, but his voice crackled with static. "And we were both due for some downtime – as much as any of us get these days, what with how things are going, anyway – so I was sent back here with him."

"That's great!" Bluestreak said. "I'm glad they were able to accommodate that. Prowl isn't involved in individual troop assignments, but he said that they're trying to keep bond mates together as much as possible." He smiled. "Command knows mechs are a lot more resilient to all of the stress they're under when they're close to their mates."

When Hound's face crumpled from its stoic mask into an expression etched with despair, Bluestreak instinctively put his hand on Hound's shoulder. In a moment he had his arms full as Hound collapsed against him. "I don't see how," Hound said, his voice almost unintelligible through the feedback that distorted it. "He broke. He broke and I was right there and I couldn't do anything to help him."

Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Hound, letting the green mech muffle his shuddering sobs in his shoulder as he tried to figure out what to say next. When Prowl sent him a questioning ping, Bluestreak just replied with a glyph of reassurance.

He was fine. It was his friend who wasn't fine.

"Did something happen to Trailbreaker?" Bluestreak asked quietly.

As Hound nodded into his shoulder, Bluestreak thought back to the first time he'd met the two bond mates. He'd hired them as a pair for his first solo project with Qhasel Logistics, the one that had proved his abilities to Dorgu. Since then, the two had become good friends of his. Trailbreaker was surprisingly soft-spoken for such a large-framed mech, but once you got to know him he had a sly sense of humour and a firm sense of ethics. He was utterly devoted to Hound, and Hound to him. They were perfectly matched in every sense, their personalities complementing each other well.

Hound referring to Trailbreaker as 'broken' just didn't gel with anything Bluestreak knew about the larger truck. Remembering the conversations he and Smokescreen had had about mechs just needing someone to talk to when they were hurting, Bluestreak asked, "Did you... Did you want to talk about it?"

The very least he could do was listen.

Another minute passed before Hound sat up. He furtively wiped the coolant from his optics and picked up his fuel cube again, downing half of it in one gulp. "Sorry," he murmured. "I just think I've been holding that in for so long that..."

"It's all right," Bluestreak said. When Hound's ventilations seemed to return to normal, he asked, "I'm willing to listen if you want to tell me about it."

Hound glanced around, seeming to check if there was anyone within hearing range. But at this late hour, the mess hall was deserted except for the two of them. He pulled another vent and looked at Bluestreak. "This war thing... It really sucks slag," Hound said quietly.

"You can say that again," Bluestreak said. He thought about all of the missions he'd been on, all of the team mates he'd lost, and all of the mechs that he'd killed. "I knew it wasn't going to be fun, you know, but..."

"The things we've seen," Hound said, burying his face in his hands. "Teebs has always been a bit soft-sparked. He knew it was going to be hard. But some of the things we've witnessed out there have been..." Hound shrugged and looked up again, the lost look returning to his optics.

"I know," Bluestreak said softly. His processor helpfully provided a perfect replay of the moment the combiner's foot came down on Pointblank: his partner's scream, the image of Pointblank's mad scramble to move out of the way just a moment too late, the sickening crunch of metal and plating, and the smell of ozone from a guttering spark. He shoved the images away and focused on Hound. "I've seen some awful things, too. I think everyone has."

"It got to him. It ate at him. All the pain, all the death, the senselessness of it... It chewed away at his spark from the inside," Hound said. He stared at his empty fuel cube. "I felt him getting more distant, more dead inside. He became less himself." Hound shook his helm. "He got careless. He started forgetting some of the safety drills we'd learned. He got written up a bunch of times, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything." Hound looked up at Bluestreak. "I was worried it was going to get him killed."

"I've heard about soldiers that have been affected like that," Bluestreak said. He frowned. "Usually they just give them some stim chips. Of course, that doesn’t always work out well."

Bluestreak had heard about the practice of giving stimulants to mechs who had become unstable. Usually it worked, focusing them back on their duties and what the Autobots needed them to do. But for some mechs, it backfired. It made them overly aggressive and prone to doing stupid things. In those cases, the mechs usually ended up dead within weeks.

Prowl hated that practice, and he'd confided in Bluestreak that the Prime did as well. Unfortunately there were very few trained counsellors in the Autobot ranks, and they dealt with only the most extreme cases. Even then, they were overwhelmed by how many mechs needed help – numbers that increased almost every day as the war grew more and more imbalanced.

It was far more efficient to just slap a stim chip in someone and send them back out than it was to take them off duty for months waiting for a slot to come open with a counsellor. Prowl said Command was looking for solutions, but with everything else going on there were very few resources to help with the problem.

Hound was nodding. "That's what they did. They gave Teebs a pack of stim chips, and it seemed to work but..." Hound held up his drained cube. "He was like this cube. Empty. He would smile, and it would look real. He would laugh and it sounded real. But I could tell that it was just on the surface. Inside he felt... It felt like the real Teebs was offline, and all we were seeing was a bad copy. The chips were just masking the real problem, and I... I was so afraid that he was going to end up getting killed." Hound set the cube aside and glanced around the empty mess hall again before lowering his voice to an almost inaudible volume. "So I shot him."

Bluestreak stared at Hound, not sure he'd heard correctly. "You **what**?" he asked.

"It was an 'accident,' of course," Hound said, making air quotes with his fingers. "We were breaking camp. Teebs had hardly recharged at all, but the stims covered that up. He was joking with everyone like normal, but... I knew he wasn't. Not really. I knew I needed to get him off the frontlines, away from the fighting. He needed some downtime. He needed to be assessed by a medic, but good luck getting a psych referral. I needed to get him away from the fighting, so I did the only thing I could think of." Hound held up his hand, curling it like his fingers were wrapped around a weapon. "I shot him in the knee. I knew it needed to be something that they couldn't just slap a quick weld onto, so I made sure to get the joint and the hydraulics, and hope I didn't nick a fuel line, and..." Hound looked up at Bluestreak and gave him a quick, pained smile. "It worked. We got put on the next transport back to Iacon so he could get repaired."

Bluestreak was shaking his helm, still trying to picture the gentle Hound shooting his bond mate. "How..."

Hound's voice instantly hardened. "It was the only thing I could think of. I had to do **something**." Hound's engine growled, a low, intimidating sound that Bluestreak had never heard from him. "And it worked. So I have **no** regrets." He looked away. "Teebs knows what I did, and why. He doesn't seem to care right now. He doesn't seem to care about anything, to be honest. But if he ever... **When** he gets better I hope he'll forgive me."

"No, I get it. I do," Bluestreak said, tipping his sensor wings upwards. It made sense. Serious injuries were usually sent back to Iacon or Stanix for repairs, which meant Trailbreaker would be off the frontlines. But Bluestreak wondered whether, if the situation was reversed, he could have done the same thing to Prowl? Could he have shot his bond mate if it meant possibly saving his life? Would Prowl do the same for him?

Bluestreak decided that he probably could do it if it meant saving Prowl.

Hound pulled a full vent and set the cube on the table beside him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to dump on you like that." When Bluestreak murmured a reassurance, Hound shrugged. "So how is..." He stopped, his optics sliding over the mourning stripes still painted on Bluestreak's left wing. "How are things?"

"Prowl is fine," Bluestreak said firmly, lifting his right wing higher. After he and Barricade had bonded with Prowl, Bluestreak had explained the significance of the stripes to Hound over drinks one evening. "He's working in Strategy and Analysis, and routinely advises the Prime directly."

"Really? Wow, that's great," Hound said, and for the first time since Bluestreak had seen him that evening, Hound's smile seemed genuine. But then Hound's optics narrowed. "If anyone asks, what happened to Teebs... It was an accident. That's how it was filed. Teebs agreed with the assessment."

Bluestreak waved his hands in the air, trying to look reassuring. "I understand. And like I said, Prowl doesn't work directly with troop rosters anyway." When Hound relaxed again, Bluestreak scooted his chair a bit closer to the green mech. "But listen, with this injury still healing, I've got nothing but time. Did you want to play a quick game of Primes and Drones to take your processor off of things? I remember you saying you used to like that game, and they've got a set in the cabinet over there. The game set is all beaten up, but..."

Hound smiled. "That would be really nice," he said. "I'd like that."

* * *

That night, as Bluestreak collapsed back into the pillows of their berth and pulled Prowl's overheated frame against his, he remembered his conversation with Hound about how badly things were going on the frontlines. Bluestreak had witnessed some of that first hand, and every time that another Autobot base fell or another mission went bad, the reality of how outmatched the Autobots were came rushing back.

It felt like only a matter of time before they lost everything they'd been fighting for.

"I know the war's not going well," Bluestreak said quietly. "Everyone knows it at this point. We're barely holding the ground we have." He waited until Prowl blinked up at him tiredly before adding, "So, level with me. What are the chances we'll get out of this?"

Prowl's post-overload lassitude faded slightly at Bluestreak's question. He opened his optics and sat up slightly, resting his helm on his hand so he could look down at Bluestreak. "Honestly? It's... It's not good. They've been keeping us on our back pede for a long time. We're finding it very difficult to get intelligence on anything they do, so they are constantly surprising us. Their troop movements, their armaments, their command structure... It's almost all unknown. We're not even sure who Megatron's key lieutenants are anymore. The best source of intelligence has been extremely risky covert operations, like..."

"Like what Smokescreen's doing," Bluestreak murmured.

"Yes," Prowl said. He brushed the side of Bluestreak's helm with his fingers, concern for Bluestreak flickering over the bond. Then Prowl shook his helm. "On the other hand, as far as we can tell, we've been managing to almost completely neutralize Decepticon spies and other infiltrators as well." Prowl grimaced slightly. "As we pull more and more of our troops back that becomes easier, simply because we can concentrate our efforts on the few weak spots we have in our security network."

"We're playing defensively so they can't figure out what our plans are," Bluestreak said. When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak blew air from his vents. "But it feels like all we've been doing is being on the defensive, for years now. And you can't win doing that. They still keep pushing us back." He remembered Barricade ranting about the exact same thing when he was watching a rocketball game, but Bluestreak decided that might not be a good comparison to make at the moment.

Prowl's grimace grew deeper. "You're right," he said. "Plus, we're constantly playing catch up on new technology. The Decepticons seem to have some brilliant engineers and scientists on their side, and the new weapons and technology they've been developing have given them the upper hand." He shook his helm. "We have to change that."

Bluestreak rolled onto his side, mirroring Prowl's position by resting his own helm on his hand. He slid his other hand onto Prowl's waist. "What if we can't?" he asked, feeling worry creeping into the bond. He wasn't exactly sure whether it was his or Prowl's.

"If we can't at least keep up with their technology, we're lost," Prowl said bluntly. "But our work on the combiner program is coming along, and we should have our first one ready for combat in a few months. And..." Prowl paused, considering, before continuing. "The information that Smokescreen's team brought back from Darkmount describes a completely new technology that may help change how the war will play out... If we can make use of it in time, that is."

"Really?" Bluestreak asked. He tipped a sensor wing upwards. "What is it? Some kind of new weapon?"

Prowl smiled. "The only reason I'm able to tell you this is because they've already assigned a team of engineers and scientists to start working on it, so it's been partially declassified." He put a single finger on Bluestreak's chest, just above his headlight. "The technology lets you move anything – mechs, weapons, vehicles, supplies, **anything** – from one point on Cybertron..." He lifted his finger and moved it to Bluestreak's face, smiling as he tapped it against Bluestreak's nasal ridge. "... to another, in an instant."

Bluestreak's optics widened. "Sort of like a jumpgate, but on a planet?"

"I suppose. I'm not familiar with all of the science behind it." Prowl pulled his hand away from Bluestreak's face. "But this is how the Decepticons have been outmaneuvering us all this time. They've apparently had this technology for **years** , but they'd been keeping it a very close secret." Prowl snuggled closer to Bluestreak, pushing him back down onto his back and curling into his side again. "If we can get it working quickly, we might be able to start reclaiming some of the ground we've lost."

"That would be great!" Bluestreak said. But then he remembered Hound's grief-stricken face, and he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "I hope we can. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise," said Prowl quietly, "we'll probably lose everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept going cross-eyed when I was editing this chapter, so please let me know if there are any egregious typos. 😅


	39. Return to Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak is cleared for full duty while still waiting for Smokescreen to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A surprise chapter! 😊 I got ahead on my editing so I decided to drop this one early.
> 
> Next chapter will be posted at the regular time next week.

It was a very long two months waiting for Smokescreen to come back to Iacon. It was two months which slowly stretched into two and a half months... And then into three.

"No, I don't know when he'll be back," Prowl had said apologetically when Bluestreak asked him. He flicked his sensor wings. "His mission is being overseen by Special Operations, and all they give us are status reports. They have – or rather, their commander has – a disturbing habit of changing mission parameters on the fly, which makes it very hard for us to account for their actions in our plans. It's an issue that I'm working with General Ultra Magnus on solving with Commander Jazz." Prowl's lips flattened into a thin line and frustration flashed through the bond before he could narrow the connection. Then Prowl seemed to recover, and he smiled at Bluestreak. "But I promise that if I hear any news about him, I will let you know. The last report I saw said that all members of Smokescreen's team were in good repair and in good spirits."

Bluestreak knew there was nothing he could do except try to be patient, so he threw himself into what work he could. He was finally released to do patrols, the same as Smokescreen had been: long drives around the perimeter of the city, mostly to work on getting his stamina back where it should be, and to test for any weakness in the repairs he'd undergone. He also made a point of never missing a session on the target range, especially once he was cleared to fire missiles again.

The sensation of getting shoved backwards by the launch of a missile shouldn't have been comforting or familiar, but it was both. Bluestreak decided to just accept it. After all, it was part of his function and specialization now. It represented how he was helping the Autobots fight the war against the destruction of their planet.

It was what he was good at.

Meanwhile, having Hound and Trailbreaker around was a pleasant distraction for Bluestreak. He was finally allowed into Medical to see Trailbreaker about a week after he and Hound arrived in Iacon. The black truck frame looked to be doing well, smiling and laughing along with the conversation. But Bluestreak remembered what Hound had told him about what Trailbreaker had gone through. He noticed the distant look in Trailbreaker's optics sometimes, or the way Trailbreaker occasionally seemed to fade away in the middle of the conversation, going silent and unresponsive.

Fortunately, about two weeks after bringing Trailbreaker to Iacon, Hound had some very good news.

"He got a psych referral today," Hound said one evening after meeting Bluestreak for fuel. Hound's optics were overly bright with emotion, and his expression seemed to waver between wanting to laugh out loud or weep. "He'll be seeing someone in a few days." Hound blinked rapidly, looking up at the ceiling. "

"That's fantastic!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "But I thought the backlog for counseling services was too big, and they weren't accepting any more referrals."

Hound nodded. "Normally, yes. But I guess the Chief Medical Officer has been working to change that." Hound pulled a vent, cycling air through his system noisily. "It was like a miracle, Bluestreak. Teebs's normal doctor got deployed somewhere... Stanix I think. Anyway, the CMO himself took over his care. He took one look at Teebs's file and made the referral." Hound ducked his helm slightly, a smile still plastered on his face. "I think I embarrassed the doctor by thanking him so much. He just said that he wished the referral had come years ago, before things got so bad." Then Hound paused, his smile slipping off of his face. "I wonder if he suspects what I did."

Bluestreak shook his helm. "I don't think it would matter. Ratchet's good, really good. He's the one who put me back together this last time," he said, holding up his reattached hand and flexing it. "I don't think I've ever had replacement parts integrate so smoothly. And he's big on patient confidentiality. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Anyway, I think I might be getting sent back to my unit soon. Doctor Ratchet said he'd try to get a temporary deferral for me, since Teebs would do better if I was here, but..." Hound shrugged. "Even if he doesn't manage it, I'm just so happy for everything he's done so far. For the first time in a while, I feel like I've got hope again."

Bluestreak was glad for his friends. Hope was something that was in very short supply, so Bluestreak took his hope wherever he could find it.

Three months after Smokescreen left, Bluestreak was cleared for full duty. As soon as he received the report from Medical, Springer immediately called Bluestreak into his office.

"We've been hurting for competent gunners ever since you got damaged, corporal," Springer said. "Not to speak bad about the mechs we have gotten, but... Well, none of them have really worked out." He frowned. "Between you and Pointblank, I think we might have landed the best of the best."

"Thank you, sir," Bluestreak said. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had kept Bluestreak filled in on how the Artillery mechs they'd been getting for their missions simply hadn't been good fits. One of them had been surly, and when he did talk he was rude. Another one was a terrible shot; when Sideswipe suggested there might have been something wrong with his targeting systems, the mech had immediately asked for a transfer. A third was lazy, and argued constantly over whose turn it was to do chores around the camp when they were deployed. After writing him up multiple times, Springer finally booted him from the unit and sent him back to the frontlines.

Sunstreaker said that all of the specialty units like theirs had snapped up the better Artillery mechs a few years prior, and that Tutela Unit had been lucky to get Bluestreak and Pointblank. And now that Pointblank was dead...

Springer sat back in his chair. "If there's anything you need before you feel ready for a mission, let me know, and I'll make it happen," he said. He glanced down at the datapad he held in his hand. "But if you feel ready to go, we have a mission leaving tomorrow afternoon to accompany the Aerialbots on their first deployment. It's a juicy one: we're taking down one of the 'Cons' weapons storage depots on the outskirts of Vos." He looked back up at Bluestreak, regarding him with a serious expression. "Are you ready?"

Bluestreak hesitated, wondering what all might be included in Springer's offer of getting him 'anything' he needed. Then he mentally shook himself. Asking for a mech on a Special Operations mission to be sent back to Iacon just so they could go on a date was probably out of the question.

It **was** tempting, but...

Bluestreak nodded once. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'm ready."

Springer stood up and walked around his desk to clap Bluestreak on the shoulder. "Excellent. Be at the mission briefing in two hours."

The mission turned out to be a two-week long, out-and-back trip to an area just outside of Vos. The mission was shorter than some similar ones Bluestreak had been on, but the stakes on this one seemed a bit higher. First, they were going deep into Decepticon territory again. That in itself was nothing new, but with the way the war was going it meant the risks were increased. Second, Bluestreak hadn't been in a combat situation in several months. After his legs had been replaced, it had taken several missions before he'd felt like he'd worked all of the rust out of his trigger finger and targeting systems. Third, they were testing the Autobots' first combiner team, to see how they worked in the field.

And of course, Bluestreak couldn't forget that...

"Look, if Smokescreen comes back while I'm away..." Bluestreak told Prowl that night as he sat on the floor. Prowl was sitting above him on the berth, massaging the hinges of Bluestreak's sensor wings in an attempt to work out some of the tension that had settled into them. "If he comes back..."

Prowl's hands paused. "I **promise** I'll let him know where you are," Prowl said. He leaned forward so he could look into Bluestreak's face. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he won't forget about you."

"Thanks." Bluestreak smiled as Prowl started working at his hinges again. He hissed as Prowl found a particularly tight cable, but waved his hand when Prowl stopped massaging his hinges. "No, keep going. That's good right there. It's just really tight." He closed his optics as he felt Prowl work the kink out of the cable. "And you know, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you asked him out, either. That would be fine with me."

Prowl made a negative sound. "I told you," he said. "You're the one with room in your spark for another mech. You're the one who was made to trine." He leaned to the side, pressing his lips against the back of Bluestreak's right sensor wing, the one still painted with the white and gold bonding stripes. "I'm perfectly happy with just you. You can take him out on that date when you get back."

"Maybe I'm just trying to get you to do the hard part of a first date for me," Bluestreak said with a smile.

"Was **our** first date really so difficult?" Prowl asked. "Because that's not how I remember it."

Bluestreak thought for a moment, then shook his helm. "No. But Barricade had the first date with you, not me. And besides... You're perfect."

"Hardly." Prowl snorted as Bluestreak laughed. Then Prowl pulled Bluestreak back against his legs and tipped his helm backwards so they could look into each other's optics. "But somehow I think you'll have just as easy of a time with Smokescreen as we did with each other."

"What makes you say that?" Bluestreak asked, looking up at Prowl's icy blue optics.

Prowl shrugged slightly. "Just a feeling."

* * *

The last time Bluestreak had been out of commission due to a serious injury, it had taken him what felt like ages to get back into his groove.

Maybe it was because he only had a hand replaced this time instead of both of his legs. Maybe it was because the doctor assigned to his care was more skilled. Or maybe it was because he was very much looking forward to getting back to Iacon. Whatever the reason was, it felt like Bluestreak hadn't been off duty for any time at all, and the mission went as smoothly as anyone could have hoped.

The Autobots' new combiner team worked flawlessly. Bluestreak and his unit let loose a cheer when the Aerialbots transformed and combined into the towering form of Superion. The huge combiner seemed to pause to gather itself, and then went stomping through the gathered Decepticon forces. Superion made quick work of the enemy, swinging his fists through the 'Cons and decimating their formations.

(His fists? Their fists? Bluestreak was still a bit confused when it came to how to refer to the combiner. But when Bluestreak asked Fireflight about it, the Aerialbot was firm. "When we're combined, we're... More," he said. "Superion is his own mech. He's us, but separate from us." Fireflight paused, then added, "I don't know how else to explain it.")

Whatever Superion was, he proved to be a force to be reckoned with, and Bluestreak felt a fresh blossom of hope spring up in his spark.

Once the opposing forces had been dealt with, Tutela Unit made short work of raiding the weapons depot of anything they could use, planting their explosives around the building, and detonating them once they got to a safe distance. Sideswipe had whooped when the depot went up in a towering flash of smoke and fire, leaving nothing but a smoking crater behind.

Mission accomplished, with aplomb.

The whole team was diverted briefly on the way back to Iacon to assist another Autobot regiment secure a position near the Sonic Canyons, but within a few days they were cruising back towards Iacon. They made their rendezvous with the air transport, and Bluestreak found himself a seat across from Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Even though their deployment had only been a few weeks long, they had driven hard the whole time. Everyone was tired. It would be good to get back to their own bunks.

Bluestreak had a ritual that he'd developed over the years when returning from a mission where he hadn't had a chance to talk to Prowl. He closed his optics and opened the bond wide, feeling for his bond mate.

Prowl's response was faint, but happy. Because assessing the performance of the new combiner team had been one of the mission's objectives, Bluestreak was sure Prowl was already aware how things had gone for them. He focused and pushed as much of his eagerness to get back to Prowl as he could through the bond, then settled back to rest.

As they flew closer to Iacon, Prowl's presence in his spark grew brighter, until Bluestreak could clearly feel Prowl's happiness threaded through with eagerness. The signal jammers around Iacon blocked most comm signals, but they still permitted the use of simple text pings. As soon as he knew they were in range, he sent Prowl a quick message. _I can't wait to see you._

Prowl's response was immediate. _Same here. And there's a third mech who's eager to see you as well._ Prowl tagged his message with a glyph indicating humour.

Bluestreak's optics flew open. _Smokescreen's back?_

 _Yes._ Prowl's next message came with the same humour glyph repeated four times. Prowl only used emotive glyphs like that when he was feeling particularly happy. Through the bond, Bluestreak could almost see Prowl's smile. _I will let him know your transport will be landing soon. I love you._

Instead of replying directly, Bluestreak threw a burst of happiness and excitement into the bond, and received a wave of affection in response.

By the time the transport was circling on final approach to the base, Bluestreak was impatiently tapping his fingers on his knee. Sideswipe looked across the aisle, glancing at Bluestreak's fingers as they tapped out their rhythm. "Eager to get back to Cop Bot, huh?" Sideswipe asked. Beside him, Sunstreaker was leaned back in his seat, his optics closed.

"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "Among other things."

Sideswipe's attention sharpened and he leaned forward with a grin. "Oh? Anything interesting?"

Bluestreak smiled and shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Don't worry, I'll let you know."

"It's probably that other Praxian," Sunstreaker said. His optics were still closed.

Sideswipe's lips formed themselves into an 'O' shape, then he grinned. "Really?" he asked. When Bluestreak nodded, Sideswipe clapped his hands together. "I remember seeing you talking to him in the mess hall. He's good looking."

Sunstreaker cracked open an optic to look at his brother. "Seriously? His colours are garish."

"He's pretty nice, right?" Sideswipe asked, ignoring Sunstreaker's comment. "You wouldn't be hanging out with him otherwise."

Bluestreak smiled, knowing that he probably looked silly with how wide his grin was spread across his face. "Yeah. He's really nice. I'm looking forward to seeing him again."

Leaning across the aisle, Sideswipe gave Bluestreak a gentle bump on the shoulder with his fist. "I hope things work out for you. The three of you." Sideswipe leaned back in his seat as the pilot called for everyone to stay seated for landing. "But you let us know if he gives you any trouble, all right?"

Sunstreaker finally opened both optics and looked across at Bluestreak, nodding in agreement with his brother.

"I will," Bluestreak said, his spark still spinning in happy anticipation.

It was good having friends who looked out for you.

When the transport landed, Bluestreak rushed to the door and out onto the tarmac. His optics swept the edges of the field and immediately located the familiar white and black form of his bond mate. Bluestreak folded into his alt mode and sped across the distance between them, transforming at the last moment and throwing himself into Prowl's arms. Prowl staggered back slightly under Bluestreak's heavier bulk, laughing. "I'm happy to see you, too, love," Prowl said, catching Bluestreak's lips for a quick kiss. "Are you feeling all right? All your repairs held up?"

"Yup, everything worked perfectly." Bluestreak glanced around, trying to spot the other Praxian.

Bluestreak had been trying to be surreptitious, but he apparently wasn't very successful. Prowl smiled at him and said, "Smokescreen's just over there." He pointed at the fence between them and what used to be the main terminal for the space port. "He got back just a few days ago."

Behind the fence, his arms crossed below his bumper, was Smokescreen. When he saw Bluestreak looking his way, Smokescreen lifted his hand and gave him a little wave.

Bluestreak returned the wave. He couldn't restrain the tiny flutter in his wings when Smokescreen smiled at him.

"Come on," Prowl said, tugging on Bluestreak's arm. Over the bond, he felt a fond amusement from Prowl. As they started walking, Prowl said, "I heard your mission was a success."

"You got our report, I take it?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yes." Prowl's amusement was overlain with satisfaction. "We've already recruited five mechs for the second combiner team, and the Science Division is working overtime to make the modifications for them. Having a counter to the Decepticon combiners will be vital if we're to hold onto the territory we currently control." He nodded. "And they just finished testing some updated tech to keep our communications encrypted."

"It still feels like we're playing defensive," Bluestreak said.

"We are," Prowl admitted as they walked through the gate to the other side of the tarmac fence. "But at least we're leveling the playing field a bit more now."

They'd reached Smokescreen, who held out his arm. "Good to see you, Bluestreak," he said, smiling as Bluestreak gripped his forearm in greeting. "And sorry I was late getting back. You know how it is." He tipped a sensor wing downwards in apology.

"I do," Bluestreak said. He glanced at Prowl, who simply smiled at him in return. "So, are you still up to go for a drive into the city?" he asked.

"It's all I've been thinking about since I left," Smokescreen said, his optics brightening slightly. Then he looked Bluestreak up and down. "Although I'm assuming you'll want to clean up first."

"Err, yeah," Bluestreak said, glancing down at his dust-covered frame. He glanced back at the transport, where his unit was still unloading their gear. He should have been helping them with that. Bluestreak rubbed the back of his neck as he checked his fuel and energy levels. "And I've still got a debrief, and I've been recharging in alt mode almost the whole time since we left, and..."

Smokescreen laughed, waving his hand in the air. "I get it. I just got back from deployment myself, remember? We can do it later."

Bluestreak hesitated. "You're not going to get deployed again before tomorrow... Right?"

Next to Bluestreak, Prowl made an amused noise, but Smokescreen just smiled. "I don't think so," he said. "They've got me stuck in Tactical for the moment, crunching through some mission scenarios and intelligence reports. I know Jazz is revving his engine waiting to get me back, but –"

"Smokescreen is proving **very** useful to us right now," Prowl added firmly. "Commander Jazz will just have to wait."

Bluestreak smiled. "All right. Then how about tomorrow? I'll double check that they aren't scheduling anything for me right away, but they usually don't after I get after a mission."

"Then it's a date," Smokescreen said. "I'll meet you in the mess hall at 1700?"

"That works," Bluestreak said. From Prowl he felt a burst of joy at his words. Before he could respond, though, he heard Springer's voice calling from the tarmac as the rest of the unit's gear was unloaded. "Um, I should probably..."

"I'll see you later, Bluestreak," Smokescreen said before turning on his heel and walking back towards the terminal.

Bluestreak watched Smokescreen for a moment before turning back to Prowl. The affection and anticipation from Prowl had only grown stronger during his conversation with Smokescreen, and Bluestreak grabbed Prowl's hand. "What's gotten into you, Prowl?" he asked quietly as they started walking back towards where Bluestreak's unit was gathered. "Why are you so vested in me and Smokescreen getting together?"

Prowl hesitated for a moment before answering, but when he spoke his words were backed by sincerity. "Ever since we lost Barricade, it's like there's been a shadow hanging over you," Prowl said. He glanced at Bluestreak out of the corner of his optics before continuing. "You just don't seem to shine as brightly as you used to. Part of it might be the war, but I know another part was losing Barricade."

"Really?" When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak asked, "But what's that got to do with Smokescreen?"

Prowl smiled. "Like I told you before: every time you think about Smokescreen, it's like seeing that shadow vanish. Whatever he ends up being for you, he makes you feel happy. And seeing you happy makes me happy."

Bluestreak laughed slightly and stopped, tugging on Prowl's hand so he stayed beside him. "But you're my light," he murmured.

Prowl looked at Bluestreak with brilliant ice blue optics. "Maybe we can find you another light, so you can shine even brighter than before," Prowl whispered, and leaned forward to press his lips to Bluestreak's.

Neither of them even cared about the good-natured hooting from the mechs in Bluestreak's unit.


	40. A Praxian Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Smokescreen go on their first date.

"I haven't gotten a chance to explore much of the city," Smokescreen said as they pulled out of another checkpoint. He settled himself just off Bluestreak's rear fender, letting Bluestreak lead the way. "This is the first time I've ever been stationed in Iacon for any length of time. I don't really know my way around, and it just seemed easier to stay on base."

"We lived here for a century before the war started, so I know my way around pretty well," Bluestreak said. "Even with all the damage done by the 'Cons launching stuff from Protihex, I can still remember most of the main routes pretty well."

"What was it like?" Smokescreen asked. "I never got to Iacon before the war. Trident had been here a few times for training. He said he'd like to take us here for a visit, but..." His voice trailed off for a moment before continuing. "He just said it was really different from Praxus."

"It was," Bluestreak said. He slowed so that he could navigate around a pile of rubble that had been pushed to one side of the highway, and waited until Smokescreen did the same before they accelerated back to cruising speed. "It was a lot busier, with a lot of different sorts of mechs. I never realized how accustomed I was to seeing the same four main frametypes in Praxus, until I moved here and started living alongside so many other types. Not to mention all the organics."

Smokescreen hummed. "Altihex had a lot of organics, too," he said as he followed Bluestreak down an exit ramp. "It definitely had way more than Praxus, anyway. I never got a chance to really talk to any of them, though, since I was... Well, I was pretty busy when I was there."

Bluestreak slowed to a stop in the transformation lane – or at least what he thought was the transformation lane. The markings on the road surface were so faded as to be almost invisible. He transformed and smiled at Smokescreen as the other Praxian joined him. "Here's a great chance, then," he said, gesturing towards the small restaurant. "The owner is A'ovan. Axen's really friendly. I think you'll like him."

Smokescreen stared up at the sign as they approached, and his sensor wings flicked upwards once. "They serve regular fuel here, too, right?" he asked. He glanced at Bluestreak and smiled. "I heard some pretty gross things about what A'ovan's eat." He grabbed Bluestreak's arm and mimed taking a bite out of it.

Bluestreak hesitated for a moment, disquiet curling through him alongside a strange sense of having had this conversation before. He recalled Barricade's reaction to A'ovan eating habits, as well his horror that Bluestreak might be forced to help consume Dorgu when the old matriarch died. On the other hand, Bluestreak himself had been relieved when he hadn't been required to participate in that part of the ritual.

Coming to a stop outside the restaurant, Bluestreak turned to face Smokescreen. "They only do that as part of their funereal rites," he said. Bluestreak set his sensor wings low in a gesture of seriousness. "It's considered a sacred act, and... It's not something to joke about."

Smokescreen's optics widened, and his own wings fell slightly. "Oh, really? I didn't know that. I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me." He shook his helm. "Like I said, I haven't ever gotten a chance to talk to any, really."

Bluestreak lifted his wings again and smiled as the disquiet faded a bit. "Anyway, A'ovans eat the same sorts of things other organics do: you know, other, non-sentient organics. But Axen also serves regular fuel here." He turned and started walking towards the door again. "Prowl **really** likes the rust sticks."

As the door chimed to announce their entrance, Axen appeared from the back. "Friend Bluestreak!" he exclaimed. "You are welcome! And friend, also, always welcome." Axen held out his hand, flicking his long fingers towards Smokescreen before focusing back on Bluestreak. "Plans, to eat here or take out? I have prepared a new assortment of rust sticks. Bond mate, Prowl, would enjoy?"

"I'll definitely be taking some sticks back for Prowl, but we'll be fueling here," Bluestreak said. He looked around the cafe, where only one table was occupied, a herd of Akkiel clustered around a table in the back. "We'll just grab a booth if that's all right? And I was thinking we could start with a small assortment of gels, and a zinc tart for Smokescreen here."

When Axen waved his acknowledgement, Bluestreak led Smokescreen to a booth a few tables away from the Akkiel. "I hope you didn't mind me ordering," Bluestreak said as they slipped into their seats. "But the gels are really good, and I remembered you wanted a zinc tart."

"That's fine," Smokescreen said with a smile. He looked around the small cafe. "Do you come here a lot?"

"After I found out about the rust sticks, either me or Prowl come here about once a week to buy some. Prowl's got a bit of an obsession with them," Bluestreak said. He lowered his voice and added, "Just don't ask where the materials come from. Axen's been scavenging the parks and buildings nearby for ingredients."

"Seriously?" Smokescreen asked, then laughed when Bluestreak nodded. "That's pretty smart, to be honest." Then the smile faded and he looked up at the counter, where Axen had his back turned to them and was busy preparing their order. Smokescreen leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I need to ask you something slightly uncomfortable," he said. "If you don't want to answer, you can tell me and we'll leave it there, but... I've been thinking about it ever since you told me you wanted to go out on a date."

Bluestreak stared at Smokescreen for a moment before nodding. "All right," he said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "Ask away."

"Based on the conversations I had with him before you got back yesterday, I've gathered that Prowl is totally fine with you asking me out," Smokescreen said. When Bluestreak nodded, Smokescreen glanced behind Bluestreak at his left sensor wing. "But neither of you have painted over the stripes for your dead bond mate." Smokescreen's own wings flicked upwards, displaying his own mourning stripes before lowering them again. "So what is this going to be? I'm assuming that since you've still got your stripes you aren't planning on courting me." He tipped his helm to the side. " **Is** this a date? Are you just looking for another friend? Or someone to warm your berth while your bond mate's on duty?" Staring at Bluestreak intently, Smokescreen added, "Just... Please be truthful with me. I want to make sure we're both on the same screen so there's no hard feelings later."

Bluestreak's optics widened. "I'm not just looking for a frag!" he exclaimed. He bit his lower lip and thought before answering. "But, beyond that, I'm honestly not sure what I want." He laughed, remembering Prowl's frustration with him. "I think I was giving Prowl a processor ache when I was trying to figure out whether I even wanted to ask you out in the first place."

"Really?" Smokescreen smiled. "You obviously came to a conclusion, because here we are."

Nodding, Bluestreak said, "Yeah. Prowl helped me work through it." He shrugged. "I'm not sure what I want. All I know is that ever since... Ever since we lost Cade, I haven't felt right. I've felt like there was something missing." Bluestreak shook his helm. "I don't know if that something is you but... It might be. I like spending time with you. You're smart. You make me laugh." Bluestreak shrugged again and looked away shyly, suddenly very conscious of Smokescreen's intent gaze. "When Prowl pointed out how I feel whenever I think about you... I decided I wanted to ask you out. And like you said, here we are."

Smokescreen made a tiny sound, something between a laugh and squeak. When Bluestreak looked back up at him, he was smiling. "Yeah. Here we are."

Bluestreak's optics drifted back to the black and gold stripes on Smokescreen's wings, and he made a quick gesture towards them. "But what about you? I mean, you said yes, but... You still have your stripes, too." He lowered his hand back to the table. "If you're not ready for anything serious, that's all right."

Smokescreen's optics drifted downward. He stared at the surface of the table between them for almost a full minute, silent and expressionless. He was quiet for so long that Bluestreak suddenly felt nervous in a way that he hadn't felt in ages. Smokescreen's silence conjured up memories of the rejections that he'd experienced while he and Barricade had been looking for a third. Over the bond, Prowl sent him a questioning nudge, and Bluestreak summoned up as much confidence as he could to send back to him.

He was just about to apologize in an attempt to take back his question when Smokescreen lifted his helm again and smiled at him. "I'll be blunt," Smokescreen said. "I don't **know** what I want. So I guess we're on the same road, trying to figure out exactly where we want this to go."

Bluestreak relaxed, letting his relief wash through him and the bond. "I'm ok with that!" he said. "I like spending time with you, and if that becomes something a bit more, then that's all right too. I'm willing to take a chance."

"Me, too." Smokescreen nodded, and he held out his hand to take Bluestreak's. "Then let's take it slow, and figure this out together, hmm?"

Bluestreak's spark twirled happily at Smokescreen's smile, and he let his sensor wings flutter a bit behind him.

"Friends, fuel is warmed, treats are ready." Axen swept up to the table, carefully setting down a tray of energon gels. "Also, zinc tart for friend Smokescreen?" When Bluestreak nodded, the A'ovan set the yellowish treat down in front of the blue and red mech. "Much happiness in sharing food, much happiness in sharing fuel. May your stomachs be filled!" With a pleased titter, Axen swept away from the table to greet a small group of Povians that had just come in.

Smokescreen picked up the tart and looked it over carefully. "The last zinc tart I had was when I did that stint in Crystal City, before it got bombed into oblivion. If it's even half as good as that one was, this organic's got himself a regular customer." Then he sunk his dentae into the treat. Bluestreak watched as Smokescreen chewed thoughtfully for a moment before taking another bite. Then his optics dimmed slightly.

"Is it good?" Bluestreak asked.

"Oh sweet loving Primus," Smokescreen muttered, and took a third bite. He closed his optics, his expression turning soft and dreamlike. "This is **so** good."

Bluestreak grinned. "I'm glad! I've never had a zinc tart, but everything else I've ever had here has been amazing."

Smokescreen's optics flew open. "Seriously? You've never had one of these?" When Bluestreak shook his helm, Smokescreen immediately broke off a small piece of tart and held it out. "We're going to fix that right now. Open up."

Bluestreak opened wide, and Smokescreen placed the piece of tart on his glossa, withdrawing his fingers as soon as Bluestreak started to close his mouth. The tart was tangy and sweet, and a tiny noise escaped from Bluestreak's vocalizer as he chewed. "This **is** good," he said.

Smokescreen's wings fluttered a bit. "They're my favourite," he said, and polished off the rest of the tart, licking his fingers to get every bit of crumb. "Oh, yeah. I'm coming back here again."

The cafe's door chimed again, and Bluestreak looked up to see a familiar face. "Hi, Tycho," he said.

"Good to see you, Bluestreak," Tycho said. The bulky civilian mech gave Bluestreak a mock salute as he walked past their booth to take his usual seat near the counter.

Having finished licking his fingers, Smokescreen stared at the assortment of gels Axen had brought them. "Ooh, copper. And cobalt! These all look good."

"I've tried them all, so take whichever ones you want," Bluestreak said. He pointed at a blueish square. "The bismuth is my favourite."

Picking up the copper square, Smokescreen took a bite and hummed in appreciation. "I remember you mentioned you liked Tarnish Sunrises," he said. "Those have a lot of bismuth in them right?"

Bluestreak nodded. "Yes! It's what gives the top of the drink that blue shade. I always thought they looked really pretty, but when I finally got to try one I found out they tasted even better than they looked."

Smokescreen nodded as he picked up another square. "Praxian Sunrises have zinc in them, so the top of the drink is yellow instead of blue. You know, like how the clouds in Praxus used to turn that golden shade just as the sun dipped below the mountains..." His voice faded off for a moment before he shook his helm and smiled. "Anyway, Trident designed the drink to look just like that. The fact that it tasted great was just a lucky coincidence."

"I wish I could try it," Bluestreak said.

Tipping his helm to the side, Smokescreen looked at Bluestreak thoughtfully as he tapped the fingers of his right hand against the table. The tapping grew faster as he smiled. "Does this place stock engex? Maybe we could see if he's got the ingredients for one."

"I'm not sure," Bluestreak said, and he looked over at the counter where Axen was slicing some leafy green organics. "Axen? Do you serve mixed drinks? You know, with engex or high grade or anything like that."

Axen put the knife down and waved his long fingers back and forth slowly. "Yes, Cybertronian inebriants are stocked, but little call for them. Few customers ask for them, fewer customers purchase them. Thinking, may sell off stock." Then he picked up the knife and started working on the organic dish again.

"You know he's got a pretty regular bunch of mechs for customers, but not many of them come here for drinks," Tycho said from his seat. Bluestreak turned around in his seat to see Tycho picking up one of the cobalt treats he preferred. "To be honest, if mechs want a shot of something, they'll just get it from one of the black market distillers on base. It's a lot cheaper than the better-tasting stuff Axen's got." He shrugged. "When you want to get slag-faced, you want to do it for cheap, you know?"

Bluestreak shook his helm. "I didn't mean just for shots. I meant for mixed drinks. You know, like a Tarnish Sunrise or a Towers iced tea. Something that tastes good and is fun to drink while you talk to your friends."

Tycho barked out a laugh. "I know you're both combat mechs, so I don't have to repeat the things some of those mechs have told me. Most of those guys don't drink to have fun. They drink to **forget**." He shook his helm. "Those distillers know their market, and put out some strong stuff. And they make a pretty good bit of shanix on the side, and Command doesn't really seem to care... But you didn't hear that from me."

Smokescreen's engine growled quietly, and Bluestreak glanced at him as he started to mutter. "That tracks. Let them get drunk instead of giving them the supports they need. Get them patched up, give them a gun, get them back on the frontlines. Churn and burn." His sensor wings had fallen, and he shook his helm, staring off to the side distractedly. "They **must** know mechs can't keep doing that forever."

Seeming not to have heard Smokescreen's mutterings, Tycho sat back in his seat and frowned. "Huh. Now that you mention mixed drinks, it's been ages since I had a Grindcore." He got up from his seat and walked up to the counter. "Axen, do you mind if I try something?"

"Friend Tycho, always welcome," Axen said. "But clean up after self, as discussed." Then he left the counter to take a plate of food to the Povians that had come in earlier.

"Axen doesn't mind me messing around with his ingredients so long as I share the recipes with him," Tycho said. He stepped behind the counter and started rummaging under it. "What was it you were going to order?" he asked Smokescreen.

Smokescreen shook his helm. The shadow that had clouded his expression seemed to have vanished. "A Praxian Sunrise," Smokescreen said. He got up from the booth and walked up to the counter, and Bluestreak followed him. Smokescreen leaned over the counter, trying to see the containers they could hear Tycho pushing aside. "It's like a Tarnish Sunrise. You know, one of those layered drinks." When Tycho grunted in understanding, Smokescreen continued. "It's got engex – triple filtered if he's got it – zinc syrup, silver, and rosasite flakes."

As Smokescreen mentioned each ingredient, Tycho put bottles on the counter. "No rosasite," Tycho said. "How about tyrolite?"

"No." Smokescreen wrinkled his nasal ridge, and glanced at Bluestreak for a moment before saying, "Bismuth flakes would probably work, too."

Tycho stood back up and retrieved a drink shaker from the cupboard of dishware against the wall. He set everything in front of Smokescreen. "There you go. Mix away."

"Really?" Smokescreen glanced at Axen, who was making his way back to the counter. "Are you sure? I don't want to overstep..."

Axen tittered quietly. "Friend Tycho showed me many new Cybertronian dishes to fill your stomachs," Axen said, waving his fingers at the assortment of bottles and containers on the counter. "Now, friend Smokescreen show me new dish? I would be pleased."

Smokescreen laughed and shrugged. "All right," he said, picking up the shaker. "I'll give it a try. But my bond mate was the mixologist, not me."

Bluestreak watched intently as Smokescreen started pouring liquids and adding mixing agents. "If Trident was the mixologist, I think you picked up some of his art," Bluestreak said as Smokescreen poured the silver extract over the back of a spoon, layering it expertly on top of the blue engex in a tall glass.

Without taking his optics off of his work, Smokescreen smiled. "Don't call it art until you taste it," he said. "I'm having to tweak the recipe on the fly here."

"That does look like a Tarnish Sunrise, just with different colours," Tycho said. His arms were crossed over his bulky chest as he watched Smokescreen work. "Slag, I can't even remember the last time I had one of those."

"Maybe we can make one of those next," Smokescreen said as he scattered bismuth flakes over the zinc layer, creating sparkles of blue in the yellow liquid as they settled. "There," he said, fanning his hands out around the glass with a flourish. "One Praxian Sunrise for my favourite Praxian." He carefully stuck a straw into the glass, and then pushed the concoction towards Bluestreak. "Give it a try."

Bluestreak's processor had fritzed just a bit at Smokescreen's words when he called him his 'favourite Praxian,' but he recovered quickly and picked up the glass. "All right. To peace!" He raised the glass and took a sip.

It was delicious. It was reminiscent of his favourite drink, with the layered flavours mixed with the burn of the engex, but it tasted totally different. Where a Tarnish Sunrise was tart and refreshing, this drink was smooth and silky, covering his intake with a rich sweet flavour.

"So?" Smokescreen asked. He was watching Bluestreak, his cobalt optics bright and his sensor wings weaving a complex design behind him.

Bluestreak took another sip before licking his lips and nodding. "This is **really** good," he said, then put the drink on the counter. "I could see myself drinking a few too many of those if I wasn't careful!"

Smokescreen's smile grew. He took the glass from Bluestreak and tipped it up to his lips. As he swallowed, his optics dimmed in pleasure. "Trident would make these all the time. And yeah... It's really easy to drink too many."

While they'd both been trying the drink, Tycho was sorting through other containers below the counter. "Primus, Axen. You've got a fortune in engex and high-grade here. Oh, hang on..." Tycho stood up, staring in disbelief at the bottle in his hand. "Is this **seriously** real Stanixian visco?" He brandished the bottle at the A'ovan. "Where in the Great Red Expanse did you find this?"

Axen waggled his head back and forth. "Purchased stock of intoxicants when opening business. No information, what fuel is good or desired. Understand, I cannot taste. Understand, I cannot judge." Then he tented his fingers together and peered at the bottle. "Is good?"

"Yeah, it's good. This stuff used to run a few thousand shanix for a bottle half this size." Tycho opened the bottle and took a careful sniff of the contents. "Oh yeah," he murmured. "This is the real stuff."

"What's it taste like?" Bluestreak asked. He'd caught a faint whiff of the bottle's contents when Tycho had opened it, and it did smell good.

"You've never had it?" Tycho asked. When Bluestreak shook his helm, Tycho grabbed a small glass. "Then we're gonna fix this right now. Axen, the next load of iron's free in exchange for this."

Axen's dark eyes went very wide over his rebreather. "Friend Tycho, the bottle, it cannot be worth that much."

"Not for the bottle. Just for this shot." Tycho grinned at Axen's guttural exclamation. "And trust me... As soon as word gets around the garage on base that you've got a bottle of this stuff, you're going to have mechs lined up out the door for a taste of it." He poured a small amount into the glass and slid it over to Bluestreak. "Go on. Then give your buddy a sip, too."

Bluestreak lifted the glass to his lips and took a tiny sip, a bit put off by Tycho's description of how expensive the visco was. But as soon as it touched his lips, Bluestreak had to restrain himself from drinking the rest. "Wow," he said, handing the glass to Smokescreen. "That is really smooth."

Smokescreen nodded. "I've had this before," he said, and took a sip of his own. Bluestreak watched as Smokescreen rolled the sip around in his mouth before swallowing and venting in air. "Yeah, that's just as nice as I remember." He put the glass down and slid it back to Tycho. "I remember that being the main component of an All Sparkler."

"That's right, it was!" Tycho exclaimed. He rooted around under the counter for a moment and brought up another bottle, smiling triumphantly. "What do you say we make one to share?"

Over the course of the next hour or so, Tycho and Smokescreen took turns mixing drinks they remembered from before the war. Axen didn't have all of the components for every single drink available, so they made substitutions where they could, and they all critiqued the results. The Galaxy Swirl had a bit more aluminum than Bluestreak remembered, but it tasted just as good. The Rusty Wrench was fizzy for some reason, which worried Smokescreen, but Tycho insisted it was fine (and it did taste delicious). And when Bluestreak took a turn to make a Screaming Overload, Smokescreen said that it was the best one he'd ever had... Much to Bluestreak's and Tycho's amusement (which was the point, of course).

They slowly collected an audience as customers filtered in for the evening. Organics watched, curious to see the concoctions the mechs were coming up with. The few mech customers who had come in called out suggestions, and the drinks were passed around for review (with Tycho reassuring Axen he would cover the tab). And Axen took copious notes in the jagged A'ovan script, asking questions to ensure he could replicate the drinks that seemed most popular with the crowd.

It was when Smokescreen and Bluestreak demonstrated a Bumper Shot, with Smokescreen balancing a shot of Vosian ultra-premium engex on his front bumper so that Bluestreak could grab it with his mouth and knock it back without using his hands, that Bluestreak received the hint that they should probably call it a night. He was feeling just the right amount of tipsy, and the pleasurable hum running through his lines was obviously making its way through the bond. On the other side of it, he could feel Prowl's gentle amusement grow with every uptick in Bluestreak's intoxication, until he received a low-priority ping. _I can tell you're having fun, love. Just don't make me have to send a transport out to collect you._

Right. Bluestreak pinged back acknowledgement and put his hand on Smokescreen's elbow as he was reaching for another bottle. "I think I'm done for tonight," Bluestreak said. At Tycho's disappointed sound, he added, "We need to make sure we can get back to base."

Tycho looked at them both appraisingly. "Yeah, both of you look a bit bright-opticked. It's a shame you aren't heavier framed," he said, then surveyed the array of bottles and containers that littered the counter. "And yeah, it might be time to call this a night after all. I'm sure me and the boys can finish off the samples that are left." He grinned around at other mechs who'd been watching them, and received enthusiastic responses from them.

"Much learning! Many new recipes. More ways to fill the stomachs of customers," Axen said as Bluestreak handed over the credit chips for their fuel, along with additional shanix from Smokescreen for some of the engex they'd had. Axen tapped the datapad next to him that he'd been using to take notes. "Many thanks! Next time, Axen will have additional offerings. Tell friends?"

"Absolutely," Bluestreak said with a grin, and he pressed his hands together in a gesture of thanks. "Have a good night, Axen! Thanks, Tycho!"

"Drive safe, you two!" the large truck frame called after them.

The cool night air outside of the cafe cleared his processor, but the ground still felt a bit unsteady beneath him. "Instead of driving, maybe we should walk back to base," Bluestreak said. "Or at least part way, enough for some of this engex to work its way out of my systems."

"Good idea," Smokescreen said. He peered one way up the street, then the other. "Err, which way is the base again?"

Bluestreak laughed and grabbed Smokescreen's hand, pulling him to the left. "This way."

Smokescreen obediently followed him, but when Bluestreak tried to let go of Smokescreen's hand, the other mech kept it in his grasp. After a pause as he considered what to do, Bluestreak closed his fingers around Smokescreen's again. "I... Sorry," he said.

"For what?" Smokescreen asked, looking at Bluestreak. His optics were several shades darker than Prowl's, almost a deep navy.

"For, um..." Yes, for what, exactly? Bluestreak's memory had blanked when he caught sight of Smokescreen's blue optics. Bluestreak shook his helm, wishing he hadn't done that last shot. "Oh, I, uh, hadn't expected to spend so long there, or to get overfueled," Bluestreak said. Smokescreen's hand was so warm in his. "I wanted to take you to the Novaspar Bridge. Um. It's still standing! I checked when we were reassigned here. Cade showed it to me not long after I moved to Iacon. You get a really good view of the Decagon from it and, um. Well, you get a view of the ruins of the Decagon, anyway. Actually, maybe that wouldn't be a good idea for a date after all, and..."

Bluestreak trailed off when he felt Smokescreen squeeze his hand. "I wouldn't mind seeing it," Smokescreen said, smiling. "Like I said, I never really got to see Iacon, before the war or since then. Even if the Decagon doesn't look like it did before the war, it'll still be new and interesting to me. Especially with a tour guide like you."

Unbidden, Bluestreak felt his sensor wings flutter. "Oh. Um. It's not all that far from here but it's too far to walk. We'd have to drive, and I'm not sure I can do that safely right now. So... Sorry." He looked down to hide the flush in his cheeks, pretending to watch his pedes to make sure he didn't stumble.

Smokescreen's steps wavered slightly, and when he shrugged, his shoulder brushed against Bluestreak's. "It's all right. It's kind of my fault anyway. It was my idea to make a Praxian Sunrise, and..." He laughed. "One thing led to another, I guess. You can show me next time, right?"

Bluestreak's wings rose. "Next time?" he asked, looking at Smokescreen. His spark felt like it was soaring even as he struggled to find his footing on the ground. "You mean, like on our next date?"

"Yeah!" Smokescreen wove on his pedes, his shoulder armor rubbing Bluestreak's again. It was hard to tell whether the motion was caused by his uneven gait or whether it was done on purpose. "I had a lot of fun, just hanging out with you." His smile widened, showing just a flash of dentae between his lips. "Did you?"

"I did!" Bluestreak said. His wings felt like they were fluttering uncontrollably. Bluestreak really didn't care.

"Then it's a date. A second date," Smokescreen said.

Bluestreak wasn't really sure what came over him. Maybe it was because of the engex in his system, removing the inhibitions he normally had. Maybe it was because of the grin on Smokescreen's lips and the oh-so-familiar outline of his tires on his shoulders, so much like Barricade's. Maybe it was because of the warmth of Smokescreen's hand in his, and the electric sensation Bluestreak felt when Smokescreen brushed against his shoulder. Maybe it was the soft indulgence and love coming through the bond from Prowl.

Whatever the reason was, Bluestreak stopped in his tracks, stepped forward, and pressed his lips against Smokescreen's.

As soon as their lips met, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen stiffen in his grasp. Bluestreak got the barest impression of Smokescreen's lips – the taste of sweet fuel on them, the strange scent of fresh metal that he'd come to associate with the other Praxian – before Bluestreak backpedaled away, his wings falling to his back and his hands coming up in a defensive gesture. What was he **doing**? "Oh, slag. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Smokescreen! I shouldn't have done that. I should have asked, and I'm sorry, and-"

As a frown flashed across his face, Smokescreen stepped forward, grabbing both of Bluestreak's hands. "Hey! It's ok," Smokescreen said, his voice calm. "You just surprised me, that's all."

Bluestreak was already shaking his helm. Over the bond he could feel Prowl's affection flipping instantly to worry at the sudden shift in emotions from Bluestreak. He clung to Prowl's presence. Yes, yes... No matter what happened, he would still have Prowl. "I should have asked," Bluestreak said, self-recriminations and horror running through his processor. Oh, **slag** , even if he did still have Prowl, he didn't want to screw this up. "You said we could take it slow and see where it goes, and this was hardly slow, it's just our first date, and I-"

"Bluestreak." Smokescreen's voice was firm. He'd stepped into Bluestreak's personal space, still holding his hands between their chests. Smokescreen's thumbs rubbed small circles into Bluestreak's palms in a calming motion. "It's all right. Like I said, you just surprised me." When Bluestreak didn't say anything, Smokescreen smiled. "Did you like it? Because I think I did."

"Uh." Bluestreak blinked at Smokescreen, at his cobalt optics that were less than a meter away from his own. "I think I liked it, too."

"That's good," Smokescreen said. His lips curved into a smile. "So, now that I'm expecting it, why don't you try it again? Only this time, let's do it without the surprise, and the guilt and embarrassment."

"Yeah?" The horror Bluestreak was feeling slowly peeled away into hope, and he sent Prowl a burst of reassurance.

When Smokescreen nodded, Bluestreak closed his optics and leaned forward again.

This time, he felt the softness of Smokescreen's lips. He could taste the remnants of the drinks Smokescreen had had over the course of the evening. He could smell fresh, hot metal scented with a subtle wax.

And he felt Smokescreen's hands curl around his waist, pulling them close together as they stood at the side of the darkened road in the ruins of Iacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of months ago, I [asked folks on Twitter for suggestions](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1270108402891591688) for Cybertronian drink names. I was mostly looking for the fruity mixed drinks that Bluestreak prefers, but I was open to any ideas anyone had.
> 
> I got a **ton** of responses! There were so many good ideas, I wish I could have used them all! Thank you to the following people for their drink name suggestions that I ended up using:
> 
>   * [@e_lewsive](https://twitter.com/e_lewsive/status/1270111490004209667): Towers iced tea 
>   * [@pangolinart](https://twitter.com/pangolinart/status/1270108778252378112): Grindcore 
>   * [@Plonq](https://twitter.com/Plonq/status/1270119038610485251): All-Sparkler 
>   * [@SunnySideofBlue](https://twitter.com/SunnySideofBlue/status/1270115698732384258): Galaxy Swirl 
>   * [@Hanari502](https://twitter.com/Hanari502/status/1270175657880948736): Rusty Wrench 
>   * [@nataliasalas266](https://twitter.com/nataliasalas266/status/1270116026336915458): Screaming Overload 
>   * [@fab_roddy](https://twitter.com/fab_roddy/status/1270123267018362880): Bumper Shot 
> 

> 
> And thank you to everyone else who threw suggestions at me! I loved ALL of them! ♥


	41. Specialization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen reveals what he was doing before the war.

As soon as Bluestreak spotted the green mech sitting beside his black bond mate in the mess hall, he hurried over to them. "Hound! You're back already!" Bluestreak exclaimed. He hesitated as both of them looked up at him. Hound was smiling, and even Trailbreaker's expression looked genuinely happy. "Err, everything's all right... Right?" he asked. Trailbreaker had been released for light duty a few weeks previously and seemed to have been doing well. Bluestreak hoped he hadn't had any sort of setback in his treatment.

Hound nodded and gestured at the seat across from them. As Bluestreak seat down, Hound said, "Yeah, everything's just fine." He laughed. "I'd barely gotten back out to my unit when they recalled me back to Iacon again. I thought something bad had happened to Teebs, but it ended up being good news." He looked at Trailbreaker when the larger mech took his hand.

"We're both going to be reclassified as specialists," Trailbreaker said. "With the switch the Autobots are making to a more defensive stance, I guess they're looking for more mechs to be outfitted with defensive mods."

Hound was still looking at Trailbreaker, his adoration for his bond mate plain in his expression, as he added, "Teebs has been doing really well in his treatment. Getting this opportunity was something he was looking for."

Bluestreak's brow ridges rose. "But doesn't it mean you'll just be sent out..." He hesitated, not sure how much to mention about the reason Trailbreaker was back in Iacon in the first place. "Specialists still see combat, from what I understand," he finally said.

Trailbreaker nodded. "They do. And I know that. But my reasons for wanting to join the Autobots are still the same. I've seen..." His voice caught, and Hound immediately put his arm around Trailbreaker's shoulders, murmuring something into his audial. Trailbreaker shook his helm. "It's ok, pup." He pulled a vent, and when he continued speaking, his voice was clear. "I've seen what the 'Cons are capable of. I know I need to do anything I can to help stop them, and that means fighting. But now, instead of only being armed with a gun designed to kill, I'll be equipped with the tools to help **save** lives, too."

His curiosity piqued, Bluestreak leaned forward. "Can you tell me what they'll be giving you?" he asked, remembering the mod for his missile systems that he'd been considered for so many months before.

"They're giving me force fields," Trailbreaker said. His smile broadened. "I'll be able to deploy them around specific things or mechs, or around myself and those near me. I read the specs on them. The force fields will use a lot of fuel, but they're almost impregnable!" He held out his hands, showing that the plating on his palms had been scored with markers. "The generators will go in my hands and everything will get hooked up to my main systems, probably tomorrow or the next day. As soon as my therapist says I'm ready for full duty, I'll get deployed in a defensive capacity." Trailbreaker's voice softened, and he took Hound's hand again. "Hopefully we'll get deployed together again."

"I hope you do, too," Bluestreak replied, thinking of every single mission he'd been sent out on, being kept away from Prowl. He looked at Hound. "And you?"

"I'm getting a hologram generator," Hound said. "Based on what I've been told, I'll be expected to use it to disguise the number of troops we have in a location, or to make it look like we have more than we really do, or to draw attention away from what our troops are up to in an area... Things like that." He laughed. "I've been given image files for a dozen different combiners that don't actually exist, so I expect that'll be a big part of the holograms I'll be asked to create."

"That's really neat," Bluestreak said. Then he remembered Smokescreen's quip back when they first met, about his mods being classified. "Um, you're not going to get into trouble for telling me all of this, are you?"

Hound frowned. "No?" he said uncertainly, then shrugged. "The only thing we were asked not to talk openly about was exactly how much fuel our mods end up using." Hound lowered his voice slightly and added, "I guess they don't want mechs questioning why our rations are higher than everyone else's."

Bluestreak shrugged. "Unless someone's watching you every hour of every day I'm not sure how they'd know that," he said. "But I guess it's a good thing to keep to yourself."

"So, I know I was only gone for a few weeks," Hound said, raising his voice again and smiling. "But what's this Teebs was saying about you getting friendly with that new Praxian on base?"

* * *

Bluestreak was still thinking about Hound's and Trailbreaker's mods the next night when he and Smokescreen left the base on their second date.

While they'd had every intention of having another date soon after the first one, the war seemed to have conspired against them. Smokescreen was being asked to do double shifts, analyzing all of the information coming in from listening posts around Cybertron, looking for anything the Autobots could use in their favour. Meanwhile, Bluestreak had been tapped for several missions, including another relatively quick out-and-back mission. That mission took him to the location of a fuel cache that a reconnaissance team had discovered. It was one of the first missions he'd done in a while outside of his usual assignment with Tutela Unit, and it was strange not being teamed up with the twins or Springer. The mission to retrieve the fuel had been almost all artillery mechs to protect the transports as the cargo haulers loaded the fuel to take back to Iacon. Bluestreak found he missed the comradery with his usual team mates.

Bluestreak mentioned this to Prowl when he got back, but his bond mate could only shake his helm. "Everything is getting shifted around," Prowl said. "Some of our priorities have changed." He pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I wouldn't be surprised if set units like yours are eventually disbanded, and the team members sent out on missions that need them the most. Ironhide was telling me most of the strike units have already been disbanded."

Frowning, Bluestreak said, "I just hope I can stick with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, wherever they end up."

"I understand. I know they're good friends of yours," Prowl said. He smiled at Bluestreak. "And I remember what a great comfort they were for both of us in Basic... Even if Sideswipe did give me that silly nickname."

Bluestreak laughed. "At least he kept your nickname focused on your specialization. Remember, it could have been worse," he said, and fluttered his wings in demonstration.

By the time Bluestreak and Smokescreen managed to get out on their second date, almost a full month had passed since the first one. They'd still seen each other frequently enough, spending an hour in the mess hall chatting, or finding a few minutes in a darkened corridor to exchange a few words and brief kisses. But they were both really looking forward to spending some uninterrupted time together, alone.

So as they drove away from the base that night, Bluestreak was feeling upbeat and happy. He wove back and forth on his wheels as they took one of the better-lit highways across the city towards the ruins of the Decagon, and he decided to ask Smokescreen the question that had been nagging him for over a week.

"I was chatting with some of my old friends a while back. You've met them, I think," Bluestreak said. "Hound and Trailbreaker."

"I remember them," Smokescreen said. He had taken up a position off Bluestreak's rear fender to follow him through Iacon. "They're the ones who seem to have taken a vested interest in our relationship."

Bluestreak laughed. "They just know me from before the war, and... Well, they knew Cade. I think they're excited to see I have someone new in my life." He paused as they swung off at an exit, and transformed at the bottom of the ramp. "The road's in really bad shape past here, so it's easier to walk."

"That works," Smokescreen said, coming to a stop and transforming. He smiled at Bluestreak and held out his arm. "Besides, this way I can hold your hand."

There was no point in even trying to hide the flutter Bluestreak's wings gave, so instead he just took Smokescreen's offered hand. Bluestreak started leading Smokescreen off the side of the road and through a square that was littered with debris. "That part of the bridge collapsed during one of the bombings, and fell onto the road below. We'll just cut though here, and then we'll get back on the next ramp to the top of the bridge. That's where the view is the best," he said.

Smokescreen craned his neck, trying to look further up the road before they entered the square. "Um... The bridge we're going to is safe, right?" he asked. "It's not in danger of falling?"

"It's fine. It's perfectly safe," Bluestreak said, and squeezed Smokescreen's hand reassuringly. As Smokescreen nodded and followed along beside him, Bluestreak brought up the thought that had been pinging around in his processor all night. "Anyway, both Hound and Trailbreaker are being reassigned as specialists, and they're being outfitted with mods. Hound's getting a hologram generator, and Trailbreaker's getting force fields."

Smokescreen nodded. "Yes, that goes along with what I've been hearing in Strategy and Analysis. They're prioritizing defensive mods right now for new specialists."

Feeling half-pleased and half-confused, Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen carefully. "When we first met, you said your mods were classified." He narrowed his optics. "That isn't true, is it?"

Smokescreen's helm whipped around to look at Bluestreak for a moment before he laughed. "I **did** say that, didn't I?" he asked. When Bluestreak nodded, Smokescreen ducked his helm. "No. It's not entirely true, to be honest."

"So I gathered," Bluestreak said. "But I assume you lied for a good reason, so if you really don't want to tell me, that's fine." He smiled, lifting his sensor wings supportively. "I'd just prefer you tell me the truth when talking to me, that's all. If that means saying you don't want to tell me something, then that's the truth as far as I'm concerned, and I will leave it at that."

Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side. "To be fair, I didn't think I'd end up dating you when I told you that," he said. He looked at Bluestreak intently. "It's just something I've learned not to bring up because mechs always make a joke out of it."

"If you tell me, I'll try not to laugh," Bluestreak said. He tried to imagine what sort of modification would be embarrassing enough for Smokescreen to want to keep it a secret. "And I promise not to make a joke out of it."

Smokescreen smiled at him. "Thanks," he said, then vented quietly. "My mod is designed to create and deploy a suspended cloud of magnetized particles. It's used to hide troop movements during a battle, and the particles in the smoke can create a lot of interference with a variety of sensors and communication technology."

"Well, that's not very funny," Bluestreak said. "It sounds pretty useful, actually! I don't understand why mechs would joke about-" He stopped talking as soon as his processor slid the pieces into place. "Oh. **Oh.** " He looked at Smokescreen with wide optics. "So your mod creates a.."

Smokescreen nodded. "Yup. It creates a screen of smoke. A smokescreen, if you will."

"Wow." Bluestreak shook his helm. He carefully schooled his expression as he felt a smile threaten to grow on his face. "Um, did they do that on purpose?" he asked.

"Apparently not," Smokescreen said, and then laughed. "They were assigning mods according to your frame type, speed, and processor capabilities. They explained what this one did, they got me to agree to the procedure, and I had the mod installed." Smokescreen let go of Bluestreak's hand as they climbed over a larger pile of debris at the end of the square, but he quickly took hold of him again once they were over the obstacle. "It was only after I'd started training with it that I realized how perfectly the mod paired with my name. Or rather, it's been pointed out to me by the other mechs I end up working with. **Constantly**." His engine grumbled discontentedly.

"What, you get teased about it? That's awful," Bluestreak said, his sensor wings flicking up and down.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that, not really. Everyone I've worked with is pretty impressed by how effective the mod is. But every single time I get assigned to a new unit, or end up with mechs who haven't seen me in action, there's always some comedian who thinks they're the first one to make the connection." Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side, and lowered his voice an octave. "Oh, so Smokescreen makes a **smokescreen**! Isn't that fitting? Har de har har." Smokescreen rocked his helm back and forth in time with the fake laugh, then rolled his optics. "Anyway, it’s made me reluctant to talk about it with anyone who doesn't need to know."

Bluestreak squeezed Smokescreen's hand. "Well, thank you for telling me," he said.

In reply, Smokescreen only smiled and lifted Bluestreak's hand to his lips.

They transformed when they reached the next street, and drove in silence to the top of the bridge. When Bluestreak transformed again, he led Smokescreen to the edge of the bridge where a railing still stood between them and the drop off. "The larger Artillery troops come this way when they're driving back into Iacon, so I know the bridge is in good shape," Bluestreak said. He waited for Smokescreen to carefully sidle his way to the low railing, then gestured at the vista below them. "Anyway, like I said, it's a pretty good view."

Even with all of the towers dark and half of the buildings pockmarked with holes from the Decepticon bombardments that had plagued Iacon earlier in the war, the Decagon complex still looked impressive. Around the periphery, the administrative towers stood in varying states of disrepair, although one of them had been purposefully brought down by the Autobots when it had become structurally unstable. The square in the middle of the complex was littered with rubble, although a few civically-minded citizens had cleared paths through it and set up makeshift benches. And in the middle of the complex, its once-grand front stairs almost completely obliterated by bombs and fallen debris, was the dome of the Senate building.

The center of the dome had fallen in during one of the bombing runs, and a few jagged spikes of metal rose out of the hole. Bluestreak had occasionally been tempted to wander into the Senate building, just to see what the damage looked like from the inside, but the fear of the rest of the dome collapsing had always kept him away.

Well... That, and the thought of entering the building where Barricade had spent so much time, and where Barricade had killed that mech so coldly, made Bluestreak feel sick. So he had always stayed outside.

"You were right about the view," Smokescreen said quietly. His hand had somehow snuck back into Bluestreak's grasp, and he laced his fingers through Bluestreak's. "I remember seeing this on the news before the war. I'm actually surprised there isn't more damage, knowing how much the 'Cons hated the Senate."

"Prowl asked about that. It turned out the Autobots used to have their main offices here, before they set up at the space port. You know, at the beginning of the war," Bluestreak said. "So while Iacon was being bombed, this area was actually pretty well protected."

Smokescreen craned his neck upwards as if to see the very tops of the towers above them, then looked back down at the square. "The whole layout reminds me a little bit of the Civic Complex in Altihex," Smokescreen said. "I wonder if they were designed by the same architect. What was his name... Grapple?"

"You've never told me what you were doing in Altihex," Bluestreak said offhandedly. When he felt Smokescreen stiffen beside him, Bluestreak turned to look at him worriedly. "Sorry... You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Smokescreen went silent for so long that Bluestreak was about to repeat his reassurance to Smokescreen that he was under no pressure to explain why he'd been in Altihex. But then Smokescreen let out a vent of air that he seemed to have been holding. "I was working on my specialization."

Bluestreak lifted his sensor wings. This was the first that Smokescreen had mentioned anything specific about what he'd done before the war. Every time the topic came up, Smokescreen had deftly changed the subject. "You were in school? What were you specializing in?" Bluestreak asked.

Smokescreen looked up again, although it wasn't clear whether he was looking at the tops of the buildings, or trying to find the night sky between them. "I was attending the Altihex Institute of Processor Architecture and Engineering. I was working on getting a specialization in counselling psychology."

"Wow!" Bluestreak exclaimed. He smiled at Smokescreen when the other Praxian looked at him. "That sounds pretty intense. What made you want to go into that?"

"One of my oraculi," Smokescreen said. "Rivet had some... Well, he had some problems when he was younger, before he met my other mentors." Smokescreen's sensor wings dipped slightly, but then wove their way back upwards as he continued to speak. "He always said that it was only with the help of his counsellor that he managed to recover and lead the life he did. So when it came for me to select a specialization to follow, that was the only thing I wanted to do."

Bluestreak remembered how hard he'd worked to get his business management and administration specialization. Getting a certification like what Smokescreen had been working towards must have been even more difficult. "How far along did you get in your studies?" Bluestreak asked.

Smokescreen's wings flicked up and down once. "I had just finished my practicums. I was busy working on my final research project and studying for my final exams when..." He waved his hand. "Praxus." He shrugged. "So... Two months to graduation, I suppose? I don't really remember, exactly."

"What? You were almost done!" Bluestreak exclaimed. When Smokescreen nodded, Bluestreak's thoughts jumped back to Hound's pained expression when he explained how hard it was to get help for Trailbreaker when he was struggling. "Have you thought about finishing it now?"

"How?" Smokescreen asked, his tone suddenly sharp. "It's not like I can just enroll someplace to finish up. All of the universities are closed. Plus, if you haven't noticed, I've got something else to occupy my time now." He tapped the Autobot badge on his chest. "It's not like they'd just let me quit. Not with the war going the way it is."

"Smokescreen, the Autobots are **dying** for mental health professionals. Literally!" Bluestreak turned to face Smokescreen, and lifted his wings for emphasis. "Trai... I know someone who needed help, and they almost didn't get it in time," Bluestreak said. He didn't want to share Trailbreaker's story with Smokescreen without the truck's permission, so he was glad he stopped himself before blurting out his name. He barreled onward. "You know what they're doing just to keep mechs going! Stim chips and a blind optic towards engex abuse... You've complained about it yourself. And one of the reasons they do that is because there aren't enough resources to help the mechs who really need it."

Smokescreen was shaking his helm before Bluestreak had even finished speaking. "I never got my certification. There's nowhere for me to go now to finish it." He stared back down at the ruins of the Senate building. "And besides, it's been almost a century now since I even looked at any texts or anything. I'd have so much to review and relearn..." He frowned. "There's no way they'd give me the time I'd need to do that."

"You were **almost done** ," Bluestreak said. He ignored the sidelong glance that Smokescreen gave him, and leaned forward, his tone becoming insistent. "You were so close to finishing! Even if you have to review some stuff, I'm sure the CMO would be happy to have you. Prowl said they've been looking for some way to get more mechs the counselling they need, but the main problem is that they don't have any trained counsellors, and starting someone from scratch is almost impossible now! The fact that you were almost certified would have to count for **something**." Bluestreak felt Smokescreen's hand tighten around his, and Bluestreak continued. "I mean, you said yourself, sometimes all we need is someone to talk to. And..." When Smokescreen looked at him again, Bluestreak smiled encouragingly. "I've found you really easy to talk to."

Smokescreen's lips were pressed into a thin line, but as he took a deep vent and released the air again, his expression relaxed. "I used some of the coping tactics I'd been trained in on myself, you know... After losing Halfsteel and Trident," he said quietly. His wings twitched. "I think it's the only thing that kept me going, since there wasn't anyone for me to talk to." His optics seemed fixed on the jagged spikes protruding from the Senate's domed roof. "I meant it when I said you were lucky to have Prowl after your bond with Barricade broke."

Bluestreak was silent for a moment, trying to decide how much to press Smokescreen. Finally, he said, "Look. You know there's a need. I think you should go for it, but what you want matters more. If you're interested, it wouldn't hurt just to ask." When Smokescreen lifted his gaze from the destruction below them and looked at Bluestreak again, Bluestreak smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "If they say no, then that's it. But if they say yes..."

Smokescreen nodded once. "All right, all right," he said, and a small smile finally appeared on his lips. "We'll see what happens."

Bluestreak returned Smokescreen's smile, and happily leaned in for a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two chapters this week! 
> 
> I desperately want to move to posting two chapters a week regularly, but that means keeping up with my writing _and_ keeping up with the editing, and I'm not 100% sure that I can do both. But... Two chapters for sure this week. :) Then we'll see where we're at.


	42. Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl asks Bluestreak a very pointed question about Smokescreen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief content warning for this chapter: Mention of suicide/attempted suicide of unnamed character(s) by self-inflicted gunshot.

Prowl had **promised** that tonight he wouldn't work late. He had **promised** that they'd fuel together. They were going to grab their rations from the mess hall, head back to their quarters, and watch something mindless and funny. A civilian Autobot had found a trove of movies in a library that were new to the base's repository, so everyone had been hitting the datanet hard lately to find something they hadn't watched before.

Bluestreak and Prowl were going to fuel together, watch something, and then hopefully frag each other's processors out. Bluestreak had now been on a handful of dates with Smokescreen, and each one had left him feeling more charged than the last. (Smokescreen was such a great kisser.) But, Prowl wasn't always in their quarters when Bluestreak got back from the dates, leaving Bluestreak to handle his charge on his own.

Yes, Prowl had been very busy over the past while, and Bluestreak had been busy with Smokescreen. But Bluestreak was free tonight, and Prowl had **promised** that tonight he could set his work aside!

...and then Prowl had not shown up in the mess hall at the agreed-upon time.

Bluestreak vented quietly and tipped his chair backwards, balancing it on two legs as he watched the entrance of the mess hall, waiting for Prowl, and trying to be as patient as he could.

A solid ten minutes after Prowl was supposed to be in the mess hall, Bluestreak received a ping from him. _I am **so** sorry, Bluestreak. My meeting ran long, but we're wrapping up now. Can you pull my ration and meet me at the junction between the admin offices and the residences?_ Prowl's message was accompanied by a flare of twisted guilt over the bond. _I'll meet you there and we can head back to our quarters._

 _Sure. I'll be there in a few minutes._ Bluestreak sent the message, and followed it with a touch of acceptance.

There was no point in being angry at Prowl. If anything, Prowl would be harder on himself for missing their meeting than Bluestreak would be. Also, Prowl **was** very busy, constantly getting called into emergency meetings, and working long hours. Bluestreak was thankful that he got to see Prowl as often as he did, what with everything going on in the war.

As he waited for Prowl's ration to dispense, Bluestreak shoved thoughts about how poorly the war was going out of his mind. Tonight they were supposed to relax, and not think about anything that even hinted of impending doom.

Instead, Bluestreak thought about Smokescreen. The blue and red Praxian had said nothing about his almost-complete specialization for another two dates. But on their fifth date, Smokescreen had casually said, "So I spoke to the Chief Medical Officer and told him about the work I'd been doing towards my specialization before the war."

"You did? And what did he say?" Bluestreak had asked excitedly. He stopped walking and spun to face Smokescreen.

With a smile, Smokescreen said, "He said, and I quote, 'You leaking fool, how long were you going to keep this a secret?' And then he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into his office so I could give him details on where I'd studied and how far I'd gotten." Smokescreen shrugged. "To be honest, it was pretty intimidating. Doctor Ratchet seemed really angry that I hadn't volunteered that information as part of my record. But once he got over that, he said he'd make the arrangements to run me through some sort of testing. If I do well, he'll have me transferred to Medical."

"You're starting right away? That's great! I told you they'd be happy to have you!" Bluestreak exclaimed.

"I won't **really** be starting right away." Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side. "After the tests, I'll have to be observed working with patients for a little while before they let me work on my own, but..." His sensor wings fluttered happily, and he smiled again. "But then I'll finally be using my specialization." He made a small, thoughtful noise. "It seems really strange, after all this time."

Bluestreak leaned into Smokescreen as they walked, and his engine rumbled happily as Smokescreen slung his arm around his shoulders. "I'm just really happy for you... And for all the mechs you'll be able to help now."

Smokescreen's makeshift proficiency tests would happen in a few days, so he was spending all of his free time until then studying the few counselling psychology texts he could find in the base's limited library.

Which meant Bluestreak was on his own, to spend time with his bond mate... Who was still working, well past the end of his shift again.

Time to fix that. After all, Prowl had **promised**.

Bluestreak was just coming around the corner that led to the junction of hallways between the different buildings that made up the base when he heard raised voices. He paused. One of the voices he immediately recognized as Prowl's, and Bluestreak clamped down on the bond. He didn't want Prowl to get distracted by him if was in the middle of something important.

"We **absolutely** appreciate the intelligence your team has been responsible for gathering," Prowl said. Bluestreak leaned against the wall, just out of sight of the mechs further down the hall. He could hear the overly-polite tone Prowl used when he thought the other mech was being unreasonable. "But if your team depends so much on one individual, perhaps you should re-evaluate your team's make-up, and look for opportunities to develop a broader skillset."

"Develop a broader...! Look, **lieutenant** , you've got a mech who's designated a specialist tied up workin' on number crunchin' and data analysis," said another voice. Bluestreak recognized it as the Commander of Special Operations, Jazz. Smokescreen had spoken highly of him before, but had also mentioned how possessive he was of Smokescreen's time and skills. "You know how close that last infiltration attempt came to actually breaching our security! It was only **luck** that we caught them in time! If we had better intelligence, we might have gotten wind of it sooner." An engine growled, low and dangerous, and Bluestreak assumed it was Jazz's. "That mech is more valuable to you out in the field with me, collectin' the data you're usin', than sittin' behind a datanet terminal."

"You're both full of scrap." This time, Bluestreak flattened himself against the wall. He easily recognized Ratchet's voice; he'd heard it often enough when he was in Medical getting his checkups after his injury. "Do you have any idea how often Medical has to deal with the aftermath of a soldier who stuck the business end of his own blaster into his mouth, just because he couldn't deal with the stress of this Primus-forsaken war anymore? Just fix it, we're told. Just get them back up and running, we're told. Well, shoving a handful of stim chips at someone who's on the verge of breaking isn't fixing them. Letting them overfuel themselves into a systems crash every night isn't fixing them. Turning a blind optic as they take their problems out on their unit mates isn't fixing them. It's destroying morale, and you all know it." Someone made a noise of disagreement, and Ratchet's voice rose in volume. "Shut up, I'm not done. The mechs who make up our army – the mechs who follow the Prime without question and who help collect your precious intelligence and who carry out your carefully crafted missions – those mechs are **hurting** , and we **can't** fix them because we don't have enough trained counsellors to help them all. Medical interventions can only go so far. We need more mechs like Smokescreen desperately, and I will **not** let you take him away from me."

Bluestreak's optics were wide as he listened to the CMO's rant. He had heard Prowl mention Ratchet's acerbic personality a few times, but this was the first time Bluestreak had actually heard it in action. The doctor had seemed busy but fairly personable at the berthside; this was definitely a side of Ratchet that Bluestreak had not seen before.

"Obviously, we cannot assign one mech to three very different roles," said a very deep fourth voice. This time, it was all Bluestreak could do to stop himself from bolting back down the hallway. He'd heard General Ultra Magnus speak a handful of times, and the Prime's second-in-command never failed to impress Bluestreak with his gravitas. "But I do agree with Ratchet; we have brought up the serious issue of our troops' mental health too many times to count. Anything we can do on that front should be considered."

"Thank you." Even without the benefit of seeing Ratchet's facial expression, Bluestreak could tell the doctor was satisfied by Ultra Magnus's statement.

"General, with all due respect, Smokescreen has a gift for analyzing a data set and determining what actions the Decepticons are likely to take next, before we even have any intelligence about it." Prowl did not sound at all intimidated by Ultra Magnus, probably because he dealt with him on a daily basis. "Now that I am aware of his background, it seems reasonable that his education may play a role in his success."

"And meanwhile, that fancy mod he's got installed would be doin' us absolutely zero good if he's kept cooped up in an office somewhere, whether that's in Tactical or in Medical," Jazz retorted. "He **has** a function already. Let him do it."

"He has a **specialization** , or most of one, anyway. Why not let him do **that**?" Ratchet snapped back.

With that, Prowl, Jazz and Ratchet all started talking at once, each one repeating their arguments. Over the bond, Bluestreak felt Prowl's frustration growing.

"Enough!" Ultra Magnus's deep voice easily overpowered those of the other three officers. When they fell silent, Ultra Magnus said, "You have all made very convincing arguments for why Corporal Smokescreen should be assigned to your areas. But the Prime has made our priorities very clear: protect our troops, prepare for the surge that we all know is coming, and focus on our long-term goals. With that in mind, Smokescreen should be assigned to Medical – assuming he passes his tests, yes Ratchet – and any free cycles where he is not seeing patients should be given over to Tactical." Someone's engine made a disgruntled grumble. "Commander Jazz, you are aware that your team's role will be evolving if everything goes as planned. In preparation for that change, I will make sure that you will have other mechs assigned to your team to make sure you are not left short-handed."

"Yessir," Jazz replied. He didn't sound happy.

"Then I think we're done here. Have a good evening, gentlemechs."

Pushing himself off of the wall, Bluestreak quickly jumped back a few steps. Then, in as casual a manner as he could muster, he started strolling back towards the junction just as the general rounded the corner. Bluestreak made a show of stacking the fuel cubes awkwardly so he could salute Ultra Magnus. "General!" he exclaimed.

Ultra Magnus nodded at him and walked off down the hallway without a backwards glance.

Bluestreak walked around the corner to see Prowl looking right at him. Jazz was nowhere to be seen, while Ratchet was walking back towards the administrative offices. "Hi, Prowl," Bluestreak said.

Prowl took one of the cubes from Bluestreak and kissed him. "You really shouldn't eavesdrop," he murmured into Bluestreak's audial.

Bluestreak laughed; he should have known that Prowl would have sensed he was nearby, even through the block. "Sorry, Prowl," Bluestreak whispered. "I didn't mean to. But, I mean, you guys **were** standing right in the hallway. It wasn't exactly private."

"True." Prowl chuckled softly, then raised his voice to its normal volume. "I am so sorry I was running late. But this meeting was very important."

"I know, and it's fine. You're free now, right?" When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak slung his arm around Prowl's waist as the two of them started walking towards their quarters. "Then let's go start our evening."

* * *

The movie they'd picked was perfectly awful: a romantic comedy that neither of them had seen before. It had a very basic plot and was almost unbearably sappy, and the two of them had a great time ripping it to shreds as they watched it. They had to pause it a few times as they both dissolved into laughter at a particularly overwrought line. Bluestreak could not stop giggling every time Prowl imitated the lead actor's pretentious Towers accent.

They had kicked back on their berth to watch the movie, and by the time it was over Prowl was half draped over Bluestreak and his hands had started to wander. Prowl's fingers had wriggled their way into the transformation seam in Bluestreak's hip to stroke the cabling just inside, and Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Prowl's shoulders to draw him down into a deep kiss.

It had been several weeks since they'd last interfaced, between varying shifts, Bluestreak's dates with Smokescreen, and his deployments. But those weeks had felt like ages.

Bluestreak gladly arched up into Prowl's touches, and he let himself whimper as he felt Prowl's fingers slide down his hip to his valve. No, of course Bluestreak didn't remember when his modesty panel had slid aside, but what mattered was the gentle, teasing touch of Prowl's fingers against his dampened folds.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, love?" murmured Prowl as he slid one finger, then another into Bluestreak's aching valve.

Bluestreak hummed in agreement against Prowl's throat, licking and kissing his way up to Prowl's lips. "Yeah," he sighed into Prowl's mouth. His hips tilted upwards on their own accord as Prowl added a third finger, then bucked slightly as Prowl trailed his other hand up the edge of his sensor wing. "It has."

Prowl shifted, and Bluestreak could feel the firmness of Prowl's thick spike rub against his upper leg. Yes, it **had** been a while since they'd interfaced, and even the thought of Prowl's impressive spike sliding into his valve was enough to bring Bluestreak's fans up to full speed. Bluestreak tried to shift so that Prowl's spike was rubbing against his inner thigh instead of the top of it, but Prowl's weight was efficiently pinning him down. It was comforting and arousing but also frustrating, and Bluestreak's engine grumbled.

Prowl laced the fingers of one hand through Bluestreak's, and kissed his way to Bluestreak's audial. "I have a question," he vented into Bluestreak's audio receptor.

That wasn't new. Prowl often asked questions when they interfaced: faster or slow, harder or softer. There? Good? Now? Bluestreak had always chalked Prowl's habit up to his need for reassurance and his desire to be needed, and he always answered truthfully: Faster. Harder. Yes, there. Very good. Now, yes Primus, **now**.

"Then ask," Bluestreak replied as he continued wriggling, trying in vain to get Prowl's spike where he wanted it, in his valve.

But Bluestreak's motions stilled when Prowl asked, "Why haven't you and Smokescreen interfaced yet?"

Bluestreak drew his helm back so he could look Prowl in the optics. "What?" he asked, not sure if he'd heard correctly.

"You haven't interfaced with him yet," Prowl repeated. The fingers in Bluestreak's valve withdrew and he put his hand on Bluestreak's hip, leaving a sticky smear. His other hand closed more firmly on Bluestreak's, holding him securely. Prowl's curiosity, tinged with a faint bite of worry, curled through the bond. "Why not? It's nothing I've done, right?"

"Of course not, Prowl." Bluestreak reached up and touched the side of Prowl's helm, stroking down the side of his helm vent and sending him a burst of affectionate reassurance. "We just... It just hasn't happened, I guess."

Prowl seemed to relax slightly. "Good," he said, and smiled. "I've just felt how charged you've ended up after some of your dates with him, and I was wondering why you haven't done anything about it." He ducked his helm to plant a swift kiss on Bluestreak's lips. "I was worried that I'd done something to make you think you shouldn't interface with him."

Bluestreak laughed. "No, of course you haven't. I think we're just taking it slow." He drew his hand up Prowl's back, letting the tips of his fingers drag across the hinges of Prowl's sensor wing and smiling as Prowl's optics dimmed in pleasure. "And besides, I'd want to give you warning before we did that. I wouldn't want to do it while you were in a meeting or something, at least not without discussing it beforehand."

At Bluestreak's words, the ripple of lust that came over the bond from Prowl sent a shiver through Bluestreak's frame. Prowl vented softly again. "Yes. I wouldn't want to miss that."

Bluestreak stopped moving his hand again, ignoring the whine from Prowl's engine. "Really?" he asked, amused.

"Yes." Prowl's answer was immediate, just like the intensifying of the desire Bluestreak was sensing from him. "There were days when... Well, if you and Barricade were interfacing, and I was just on patrol, there were days when..." Prowl flushed slightly, caused equally by the slight embarrassment Prowl was feeling from the admission, and by the arousal sweeping Prowl's processor. "There were days I would drop the block I usually had up while at work, and I would eavesdrop on the two of you."

"While you were on duty?" Bluestreak asked, trying to image his professionally straight-laced bond mate getting charged up while at work. He grinned up at Prowl. "Really?"

"Only if there was someplace out of the way I could park," Prowl said, his flush deepening. His sensor wings hitched upwards a bit. "That pulloff area on the top of the Citron Expressway was a good place to go, or a side street in the Towers district. I could say I was doing traffic monitoring if anyone asked. And then I'd just... listen to the two of you." Prowl's fans were roaring as he spoke, almost drowning out his words. "I found it irresistible, feeling you enjoying each other."

Bluestreak laughed. "I had no idea you had such a voyeuristic streak in you!" he exclaimed.

Prowl smiled. "After all this time, am I still so full of surprises?" he asked. "You know how I always felt about watching the two of you together." When Bluestreak nodded, Prowl kissed the tip of his nasal ridge. "But yes... That's why I sometimes came home extra charged. Thinking about what the two of you had been doing while I was at work..." Prowl's free hand came to rest of Bluestreak's headlight to trace its edge, drawing another shiver from Bluestreak. "I loved it."

"Yeah, I remember." Bluestreak's grin widened. "I just got used to it, how you'd come home ready to be fragged. I loved it. I know Cade did, too." Bluestreak finally worked one of his legs free, and wrapped his legs around Prowl's hips. Finally, he felt the stiff girth of Prowl's spike rub against his inner thigh. "So when you eavesdropped on us, you stayed in alt mode and just... rode out the charge?"

Prowl shifted, and finally, **finally** , the tip of his spike rubbed through Bluestreak's wet folds. "Yes," he vented. The bond was drenched in lust now, although Bluestreak couldn't tell whether it was from Prowl's memory of feeling Bluestreak and Barricade fragging, or the risk of letting himself get charged up in public, or the actual sensation of his spike head sliding through Bluestreak's slickness. "And now I've been thinking about it again. I want to feel that you're with him, want to feel how he's touching you and using you... But knowing that you will still, **always** come back to me."

And this time, the need swamping the bond dragged Bluestreak's charge upwards as well. Bluestreak tilted his hips upwards, and as the desire washed from Prowl to Bluestreak and back, Prowl surged forward, hilting himself in Bluestreak's valve in one smooth motion.

Prowl's spike was perfect, still, even after a century, and Bluestreak let himself fall into the delicious sensation of pull and of thrust and the stretch of that thick piece of equipment Prowl had hidden behind his interface panel. Prowl pinned Bluestreak's hands to the berth on either side of his helm, lacing their fingers together and resting his helm crest against Bluestreak's. Their optics were just centimeters apart, and their vents blew hot air across each other's faces.

Bluestreak gazed up into the face of his lover, his best friend, his bond mate, the other half of his spark, and when their overloads came in unison as their charge peaked and they pulled each other over the edge, Bluestreak watched in familiar delight and adoration as his mate's optics went bright and white in pleasure.

Minutes later, their plating still ticking as it slowly cooled, Bluestreak lifted a hand and stroked it down Prowl's back again, brushing against the hinges once more. Not to arouse this time, but in affection. "Of course I'll always come back to you, my light," he said. When Prowl's optics onlined again, their icy blue glow soft in contentment, Bluestreak smiled. "I'll talk to Smokescreen. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested."

Prowl only smiled and closed his optics again in reply. 


	43. Stripes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bluestreak propositions Smokescreen, he makes a change that surprises Bluestreak.

Fortunately, the conversation that Bluestreak had promised to have with Smokescreen wasn't nearly as awkward as Bluestreak had started fearing it might be.

They were both insanely busy, so it was hard to actually **have** the conversation in the first place. Bluestreak had been assigned to three more deployments, one right after the other. Being sent away at irregular intervals played havoc with trying to set up anything in the way of concrete plans. His last mission had run long, and Bluestreak had been utterly exhausted at the end of it. In fact, the whole team was tired, and they had finally been granted a break of a few days before they would be assigned to another mission.

Bluestreak fully intended to make good use of that time.

Meanwhile, Smokescreen had passed the tests that Ratchet had arranged for him. Although he was still spending time in Tactical helping analyze intelligence data, he had also started sitting in on sessions with one of the base's psychologists. He had even begun taking some simpler cases for himself, with supervision, of course. Rung, the psychologist he'd been assigned to work with, was so impressed by Smokescreen that within two weeks he had approved Smokescreen to work with ten patients on his own.

Smokescreen couldn’t tell Bluestreak anything about those patients or even how things were going, but after his first week working with his own patients, Bluestreak noticed that Smokescreen seemed happier and more content. That happiness even came through in the simple ping messages he sent Bluestreak when he had time. When the two of them were finally able to meet for fuel in the evening after Bluestreak got back to Iacon, Bluestreak mentioned Smokescreen's quiet joy.

"It's that obvious, huh?" Smokescreen asked. When Bluestreak nodded, Smokescreen smiled. "I'd been working towards this function for years, and had pretty much given up on it." He lifted his cube of fuel to Bluestreak in a salute. "Thank you for urging me to actually do something with my specialization. I don't think I would ever have acted on it if you hadn't give me that push."

"I'm glad. I think you'll be doing a lot of good," Bluestreak said, running his finger around the top edge of his cube. He was trying to figure out how to ask 'Hey, how about a frag' without coming across as too crass.

As it turned out, Smokescreen made it easy. So many things were easy when talking to Smokescreen; he was far and away the easiest mech to talk to Bluestreak had ever met.

Maybe that's part of the reason Bluestreak liked him so much.

Bluestreak's legs were stretched out under the table where they sat. Across from him, Smokescreen leaned on the table as he finished his cube of fuel. Under the table, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen's pede slide alongside his: not tapping, not pushing, just touching enough to make contact. Casual and just slightly intimate... Just how their relationship had been so far.

Now, Bluestreak wanted to make their relationship even more close and intimate.

"With you having a few guaranteed days off, I definitely think we should arrange another date," Smokescreen said. He set his cube away and pulled out the one-shanix chip. "Do you have any ideas about what you wanted to do? We talked about booking a time slot on the base's track." Smokescreen started twirling the chip between his fingers like he always did when he was thinking about something.

Bluestreak hesitated for just a moment, then tipped his pede sideways, gently pressing his pede against Smokescreen's. "You have a single unit for your quarters, right?" he asked, and rocked his pede up and down slightly, just enough so his plating rubbed gently against Smokescreen's.

"I sure do," Smokescreen said. Under the table, Smokescreen's pede moved as well, moving with Bluestreak's as if in an unseen dance. "But you've seen how they're set up, I'm sure. It's practically a closet - nothing more than a berth and a set of shelves. I don't even have room for a proper entertainment unit."

"What if we only needed the berth?" Bluestreak asked, before his processor could catch up and stop the words from coming out of his vocalizer. He stopped moving his pede as he waited for Smokescreen's reply.

The chip in Smokescreen's fingers vanished as he caught it in his palm. Smokescreen's optics were fixed on Bluestreak's, but there was a small smile on his lips. "Well then... That **would** be perfect, wouldn't it?" he asked, and held out his hand to take Bluestreak's.

And beneath the table, Smokescreen slowly slid his pede up Bluestreak's shin panel and back down again.

Which is how, the next day, Bluestreak found himself palming the chime outside Smokescreen's quarters with a container of treats in his hand. He'd only seen the outside of Smokescreen's door before, since the two of them had always tried to get off base and out into the city for their dates. When the door opened, Bluestreak saw that the lighting inside was dim, and soft music wafted out into the hallway.

"Hey," Smokescreen said, and stepped aside with lowered sensor wings. "Welcome to my humble lair."

Even in the dim light, Bluestreak could see that the interior of the small quarters was cramped, just like all single units were. A single berth was shoved against the wall, with a small table next to it. On the opposite wall were a set of shelves, covered in data pads and a tiny collection of crystal shards.

"I didn't know you grew crystals!" said Bluestreak. He bent down to look at an intricate chalcocite formation that was twisting upwards from the growing medium, then straightened up to look at the quartz on the next shelf. "These all look like they're doing great."

Smokescreen reached past Bluestreak and turned an amethyst shard so it caught the light better. "Halfsteel had a huge crystal collection," Smokescreen said after he'd adjusted the shard to his satisfaction. "There was one full wall in our flat that was nothing but his crystals. Trident called it Steel's jungle. It was his thing, and I never really took an interest in it myself, except in that Steel liked tending to them." Smokescreen's optics glinted in the low light of the room. "When I realized I might be here for a while I decided to try my hand at cleaving. And, yeah, they're doing all right. I guess I picked some things up from Steel after all."

Bluestreak turned to look at Smokescreen, who was wearing a wistful smile. "You know that park across from Axen's, where he gets the benches for his rust sticks? Before the war, that park used to be filled with imported Praxian crystals. Of course, most of them died when no one was caring for them. But the last time I was in there, I noticed a little shard growing near the entrance." Bluestreak lifted his sensor wings. "Maybe the next time we go out for fuel, we can pop into the park to see if the shard is still there. And if it is, maybe we can rescue it."

Smokescreen shrugged, still keeping his wings low against his back. "If the shard is doing well, I don't want to risk moving it, especially if it seems happy where it is. But I wouldn't mind seeing it." He smiled. "It's been a long time since I was in a proper crystal garden."

"Oh! And speaking of Axen's, I had Prowl pick us up some treats when he went there with Ironhide," Bluestreak said. He opened the container he'd been carrying. "He got you a zinc tart, and a cobalt curl for me."

"Thanks!" Smokescreen exclaimed, lifting his wings. "I was going to ask if you wanted some engex, but... Well, to be honest I didn't want to be the least bit tipsy for this. You know." Smokescreen gestured with his hand and added, "It's just a little rule I've always had for my first time with someone."

Bluestreak was about to agree with Smokescreen when he noticed the stripes on Smokescreen's wings. Or rather, the lack of them. He tipped his helm further to the side so that he could see Smokescreen's wings more clearly. "Smokey, you... You painted over your stripes."

"Only partially." Smokescreen's smile faded, and his lifted his sensor wings as high as he could. When he turned to display their lower edge fully, Bluestreak saw that the black and gold mourning stripes had been half painted over. The stripes closest to Smokescreen's hinges were still there, but the outer portion had been painted in the same blue as the rest of his wings. "What do you think?" Smokescreen asked quietly.

Bluestreak reached out and gently ran a finger along the painted portion of Smokescreen's right wing, causing the wing to tremble beneath his touch. "Did you... Did you do this for me?" Bluestreak asked.

"Sort of," Smokescreen said, then smiled. "When you asked me about my stripes on our first date, you got me thinking about what I wanted. Then when we started to spend more and more time together, I think I finally started understanding **what** I wanted. I wanted this." He reached out and took Bluestreak's free hand in his. "I wanted us. But I struggled with painting over one of the few physical reminders I had of my trine mates."

"Funny you mention that," Bluestreak said. He lifted his left sensor wing to display his own mourning stripes. "I was struggling with exactly the same thing before I asked you out."

Smokescreen took the container of treats from Bluestreak, sat it on the shelf between two crystal shards, and took Bluestreak's other hand. Holding both of Bluestreak's hands in his, Smokescreen met his gaze evenly. "I was chatting with Rung between patients yesterday... Right after we decided to set up this date for tonight. I explained the custom of the stripes to him, and mentioned how conflicted I was about painting over them, even though I felt like it was time to let myself move on." Smokescreen lifted his wings again to display the half-painted stripes. "This was Rung's idea: to keep the mourning stripes closest to my spark, but paint over the stripes at the outer edge as a sign to others – and to myself! – that I was open to new relationships. Because I am." Smokescreen lowered his wings again, and shifted his gaze to the side. "I know it's not very traditional, but... With everything that's happened, I think it's time for us to start making new traditions that suit us."

Bluestreak thought back to his own need to cling to traditions, and how, at almost every step along the way, he'd deviated from those traditions. And now that he thought about it, Bluestreak didn't regret his decisions, even despite everything that had happened. "I like that idea," he said. He slipped his right hand free of Smokescreen's hand, and reached out to touch the freshly painted edge of Smokescreen's wing again. "Traditions just give us a connection to the past. So long as we keep those connections, I don't think it matters what form the traditions take."

Smokescreen vented air softly and laughed. "That's good," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was a little afraid you'd think it was silly, or get offended, or something."

"Why would I be offended?" Bluestreak asked, and smiled. "I think it's a neat idea, and... Maybe I'll do the same thing." He shook his helm. "Primus knows I spent way too long trying to figure out what to do about my own stripes. I really was driving Prowl crazy with all of my wavering. Err, you don't mind if I copy your idea, do you?"

Throwing his helm back, Smokescreen laughed. "Of course I don’t mind. And like I said, it was Rung's idea, not mine. I was completely stuck in the idea of how it **should** be, just like you probably were: one wing, one bond mate, and you either have the stripes or paint over them completely. This half-on, half-off thing never would have occurred to me."

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen's wing and ran his finger over the missing stripes once more. This time he took note of the quivering motion his light touch caused, so he did it again, pressing harder. The pitch of Smokescreen's engine changed, then, and he looked at Smokescreen's face. The other Praxian's optics were bright, their deep cobalt contrasting against the light grey of his face.

"So, uh, how did you want to get started?" Bluestreak started to say. Except he only got as far as "So, uh," before Smokescreen leaned forward and kissed him.

They'd kissed before, of course. Smokescreen's kisses were always soft things at first, as if ensuring that Bluestreak approved of each motion before Smokescreen moved onto the next. But gradually, Smokescreen's kisses and lips and glossa became more and more assertive, moving from asking to claiming to taking. Their brief make-out sessions (in hallways and in hidden corners and on high empty bridges and outside of Axen's cafe) had always ended with Bluestreak's fans roaring and both of them with a flush on their faces.

It was a relief knowing that this time they didn't have to stop.

The room was small, so it was only one short stride to the berth. Smokescreen stumbled into it first, and he fell backwards onto its surface, pulling Bluestreak down on top of him. They landed in a clatter of armor, and once they'd settled Bluestreak immediately started exploring Smokescreen's frame.

Each touch of Bluestreak's fingers drew a reaction. When Bluestreak lowered his helm to run his glossa around the edge of Smokescreen's headlight, Smokescreen pressed upwards into his touch. When Bluestreak ran his hand down Smokescreen's hip to his thigh, stroking the smooth plating there, Smokescreen moaned quietly, his lips forming unspoken words. When Bluestreak kissed his way back up Smokescreen's chest to his throat, Smokescreen clung to Bluestreak as if he was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Gaah! Blue," Smokescreen gasped when Bluestreak nipped lightly at the edge of his left shoulder tire. Bluestreak heard the soft snikt sound of a modesty panel retracting just as Smokescreen pressed upwards into Bluestreak's touches again. "Please..."

Swiftly, two of Bluestreak's fingers dipped into Smokescreen's already dripping valve, drawing a soft cry of need from Smokescreen. Bluestreak curled his fingers, stroking the nodes just inside the rim, and Smokescreen's hips bucked upwards.

" **Please** , Blue..."

Over the bond, he could sense Prowl's charge rising, alone in their quarters, and Prowl's excitement pushed his own arousal higher. Bluestreak leaned down to place his lips next to Smokescreen's audial, partially remembered actions guiding his motions. His chest rubbed against Smokescreen's shoulder tires, set atop his shoulders like Barricade's had been, and his cheek brushed the chinstrap framing Smokescreen's face, just like Barricade's.

_So comforting, so familiar._

He was about to ask Smokescreen what he wanted, what he needed, just like he used to do to Barricade, when Bluestreak was suddenly overcome with a sense of time being mutable, of having been here before: pinning a needy Praxian to the berth as he moaned and writhed beneath him. Bluestreak stopped and looked down at Smokescreen's face, and saw his cobalt optics looking up at him, want and desire burning brightly within them. 

Something in Bluestreak's sudden misgivings must have reached Prowl, since the rising arousal was dampened by a touch of concern.

As Bluestreak continued to hesitate, Smokescreen paused as well, his optics dimming slightly as he looked up at Bluestreak. "Are you all right?" he said, his voice crackling faintly at the end of his sentence.

"Yeah," Bluestreak said, and withdrew his fingers from Smokescreen's valve. He sent Prowl a soothing brush; nothing to worry about. _Really._ "It's just..." He ran his dampened fingers around the circumference of Smokescreen's spike housing, generating another jolt from Smokescreen's hips. "Open this?"

"Sure. Yes." Smokescreen complied immediately, and his spike began pressurizing as soon as the cover was clear of the opening. "Whatever you want, seriously," Smokescreen said, and his vocalizer crackled with a laugh as Bluestreak's hand wrapped around his rapidly firming spike. Smokescreen reset his vocalizer nosily and gave Bluestreak a shaky-looking grin. "But I'm warning you, I'm just a bit rusty all around."

Bluestreak leaned back and made a show of examining Smokescreen's spike, moving his helm around to examine it from all angles. It was about the same size as Bluestreak's ( _and as Barriacade's_ , Bluestreak's processor whispered at him, and he shoved that thought aside), but it had a deeply ridged head and small, evenly-spaced nubs down its length, and it was decorated with broad stripes of blue and red and white. "I don't know," Bluestreak said, smiling at Smokescreen, who was watching him with bright optics. "It doesn't look the least bit rusty to me."

Smokescreen laughed again, a loud, happy sound that ended in a whine and a swear as Bluestreak ran his thumb over the slit at the tip of his spike. "Ah, Primus, Blue! I meant that it's been a while and – ah, frag... Look, I might be a bit of a short range mech here."

"Then we'd better get started, no?" Bluestreak said, slipping two fingers into his own valve, then smearing his copious lubricant over the head of Smokescreen's spike. As Smokescreen watched him with wide optics, Bluestreak straddled Smokescreen's hips and then slowly sunk down on his lover's shaft.

That deep ridge on Smokescreen's spike that Bluestreak had noticed felt incredible as he slowly impaled himself. As he sank down, each set of nodes lit up as they were brushed by the nubs, sending radiating waves of pleasure through him. After reaching the halfway point, Bluestreak lifted himself up before sinking down again, lower and lower. And over the bond, he could feel Prowl responding in kind, his own charge ramping up.

Bluestreak wondered how Prowl was riding out the waves of arousal he must be feeling from Bluestreak. Was he laying back in their berth, stroking his own spike? Did he have his own fingers sunk in his valve? Was he on his front, rutting against the covers and cushions? Or was he simply sitting in alt mode like he used to do when he eavesdropped on Bluestreak and Barricade, silently feeling his charge building and torturously being unable to do anything about it?

With a growl from his engine, Bluestreak rose and sank on Smokescreen's spike once more, throwing his helm back and basking in the sensations.

Smokescreen's hands flew up to grab at Bluestreak's hips. "Frag, Blue," he gasped. "Faster. Please..." He lifted Bluestreak off his spike before pulling him back down, hard, and lifting him again. "You're killing me here!"

Bluestreak leaned forward, putting his hands on Smokescreen's shoulders. Using his arms as leverage, Bluestreak started bouncing on Smokescreen's spike, drawing snarls from Smokescreen's engine. "Faster? I can do that," Bluestreak said. He lowered his voice to a purr. "Tell me how fast you want to go, Smokey." He clenched the calipers in his valve, tightening around Smokescreen's spike so he could feel every ridge and bump on it as he moved.

And with that, Smokescreen's hands spasmed on Bluestreak's hips, pulling him down tight against his hips as they jerked upwards. Smokescreen cried out as his chest arched upwards, his optics going bright white for an instant as his charge peaked, and Bluestreak felt the wash of transfluid spurt into his valve.

Bluestreak kept moving slowly, watching as Smokescreen's optics returned to their deep blue colour. "Did that at least take the edge off?" Bluestreak asked, circling his hips slightly to grind his anterior node against the edge of Smokescreen's spike housing, keeping his own charge at a rolling simmer even as Smokescreen's slowly depressurizing spike slid out of his valve wetly.

"Frag. Yes, I think so," Smokescreen said. He smiled at Bluestreak, a look of hazy contentment on his face. "I warned you I might be quick."

"I know. It's all right." Leaning down, Bluestreak kissed Smokescreen deeply, letting his glossa slide into Smokescreen's welcoming mouth.

Smokescreen was passive at first, simply accepting Bluestreak into his mouth, but as the kiss intensified his hands came to rest on Bluestreak's hips again. His own glossa slid alongside Bluestreak's and his lips were firm, gripping and sliding. As Bluestreak's fans started to whine higher, Smokescreen broke off the kiss and grinned up at Bluestreak. "So, now it's your turn," Smokescreen said.

Rocking his hips against Smokescreen's, Bluestreak started grinding against Smokescreen's array, seeking to bring his charge upwards once more. "You got it. Just give me a - **hey**!"

In an instant, Smokescreen's thighs tightened around Bluestreak's legs and hands gripped Bluestreak's hips, and suddenly the world whirled around them. Bluestreak found himself on his back with Smokescreen on top of him. "How's this?" Smokescreen said, a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

After taking a moment to recover, Bluestreak laughed. "Was that some kind of Special Ops move?" he asked. "Because you're going to have to teach me that."

"Something like that." Smokescreen leaned down and kissed Bluestreak again. "I'll teach you later. But right now, like I said, it's your turn. I can't have you leaving here thinking that I'm a bad frag."

"I wouldn't think that!" Bluestreak said, but he wriggled beneath Smokescreen as he felt the other Praxian's hand side between his legs. He parted his legs gladly, and couldn't stop the whimper that escaped his throat as Smokescreen's fingers slid into his oozing valve, still dripping with his own lubricant and Smokescreen's transfluid. When Smokescreen's fingers grazed one of the deeper nodes, Bluestreak gasped, "Ah! There! Do that again."

"Your wish is my command," Smokescreen said, his optics fixed on Bluestreak's face.

Smokescreen's fingers began to move again, circling that node with varying pressure: light, firm, gentle, rough, until Bluestreak was squirming, trying to get Smokescreen to pick a pressure and stick with it, please, oh Primus yes, there, **there** , please, no, harder, **harder** , please yes, yes, right there, like that, right there, **perfect**...

Bluestreak became aware that his thoughts had become a babble of words falling from his lips as Smokescreen skillfully played his valve like an instrument, drawing gasps and whimpers from Bluestreak with each twitch of his fingers. And though his optics had started to go pixilated at the edges with his building overload, he could see Smokescreen looking down at him, his optics a deep rich blue and a tender smile on his lips.

Several floors up from the level that Smokescreen's quarters were on, Prowl's charge rose alongside Bluestreak's, and Bluestreak somehow knew that Prowl was delving into his own valve, matching the motions that Smokescreen was making, his own hips bucking as he felt what this other mech was doing to his bond mate and crying out the same words as Bluestreak, yes, frag **yes** , please please **please**...

His overload hit him like an explosion, ricocheting across the bond to Prowl and back again. Bluestreak knew he cried out, knew his back arched as his vision whited out and his frame locked up, but his whole focus was on the waves of ecstasy washing across him and the way he was being held and the bliss from his bond mate.

It took a little while for his sensors and processor to completely reboot after his breakers reset.

A gentle kiss on his chevron brought him back to reality, and Bluestreak looked up to see Smokescreen still smiling at him. He brushed the side of Bluestreak's helm with slick fingers. "I hope that was as amazing for you as it was to see," Smokescreen said quietly.

Bluestreak nodded dumbly. "That was really, really good," he said.

"You're beautiful, you know that? And even moreso when you overload," Smokescreen said. He brushed the side of Bluestreak's helm again, almost reverently. When Bluestreak glanced away, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the intensity of Smokescreen's gaze, Smokescreen gently turned his helm so Bluestreak was looking at him again. "I mean it. You're absolutely beautiful. And when the overload hit, you got this radiant glow." He kissed the tip of Bluestreak's nasal ridge. "I could watch that happen over and over."

Bluestreak blinked slowly, his processor still trying to sort out sensations between the aftermath of Prowl's overload and his own, and parse what Smokescreen was saying. When he finally reached an understanding of Smokescreen's words, Bluestreak blurted, "You have the bluest optics of anyone I've ever met."

That made Smokescreen erupt in laughter again, and Bluestreak felt his spark sing along with the joyous noise Smokescreen was making. His laugh sounded so genuine and sparkfelt that Bluestreak couldn't help but laugh along with it.

Smokescreen tipped his helm forward and kissed the tip of Bluestreak's nasal ridge. "We're a mess, you know that?" he said. "Waiting until we fragged to tell each other how handsome we think the other is."

Bluestreak shook his helm ruefully. "I have a history of doing things in the wrong order," he said. He wrapped his arms around Smokescreen's neck, drawing him in for another kiss. "But so long as we get to do this, it works for me."

When they finally parted again, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen shift his pedes, and felt the hardness of Smokescreen's spike slip against his inner thigh. Smokescreen's lips quirked upwards, mirrored by his sensor wings in the air above them. "If it works for you," Smokescreen said, "then how about another round?"

In reply, Bluestreak wrapped his legs around Smokescreen's waist, and yanked his helm down for another processor-fuzzing kiss.

* * *

Bluestreak dozed, drifting in and out of recharge while curled up against Smokescreen. He felt sated and relaxed, a feeling that was reinforced by Prowl's drowsy contentment drifting across the bond.

His earlier distress over unconsciously comparing Smokescreen's frame to Barricade's had faded. While Smokescreen's frame had distinct similarities to Barricade's, Bluestreak felt no confusion with his audial pressed up against Smokescreen's chest. Smokescreen's engine idled at a lower pitch than Barricade's had. The low rumble was soothing, and Bluestreak gratefully sank into Smokescreen's embrace. And Smokescreen's scent was distinctive: the slightly earthy smell of the wax that he used, and that fresh metallic scent that Bluestreak now knew was a side effect of Smokescreen's defensive mod.

Two mechs, two different frames, and two places in Bluestreak's spark. Bluestreak let himself relax into the berth and Smokescreen's arms again.

He wasn't sure how long he had drifted, contentedly snuggled bumper to bumper with his new lover. But on one of the times Bluestreak rose back to full consciousness he felt Smokescreen moving slightly. Bluestreak opened his optics, and saw a flash of metal spinning in the air over him in the dim light of Smokescreen's quarters.

After resetting his optics for low light, Bluestreak could make out that Smokescreen was staring at the one-shanix chip that he was twirling through his fingers. When Bluestreak glanced up at Smokescreen, he saw a thoughtful look on the other Praxian's face.

"Are you all right?" Bluestreak asked quietly, not wanting to startle Smokescreen.

Smokescreen's fingers stilled for a moment, grabbing at the chip and holding it tightly. "Yeah," Smokescreen replied, just as quietly. "I'm all right." He glanced down at Bluestreak. "How about you?"

"I'm fine." Bluestreak shifted so that he could see Smokescreen better, sitting up slightly and resting his helm on his hand. He watched silently as Smokescreen started spinning the chip again.

"I was laying here, just thinking," Smokescreen said. "And I realized that you're the first mech I've even **looked** at romantically since..." He caught the chip again, hiding it in his fist. "Since Praxus." The chip reappeared between his fingers, and he turned it slightly, letting it catch the dim light from the desk lamp. "I've had no interest in anyone since then. None. Not even for a quick frag to let off some charge." He snorted. "Slag, I barely even have any friends."

Bluestreak rested his hand on Smokescreen's chest. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. I haven't been in one place long enough to make any." Smokescreen started to slowly spin the chip again. "Anyway, after we got hit by that missile near the Sea of Rust, I thought I was a goner. Glyph had extracted all the data, Jazz had a backup... They didn't need me. They could have left me to gutter, and if they were in danger, I would have expected them to. But then I looked up to see you kneeling over me like an agent of Primus come to save me, and... I felt something untwist inside me. I **knew** I wasn't going to die there." Smokescreen lowered his hand to his chest, holding the chip in his palm, and turned to look at Bluestreak with bright blue optics. "Then, when I actually got to meet you, and found out what you were actually like..." Smokescreen laughed. "I was pretty happy to be rescued, by anyone, but I am **especially** happy that I was rescued by you."

"I'm glad I rescued you, too," Bluestreak said. He reached down and traced the black and gold mourning stripes on Smokescreen's sensor wing. "And I'm glad you decided to give me a chance."

Smokescreen reached across his chest and stroked the one-shanix chip down the side of Bluestreak's helm. "Yeah," he said. "I'm glad we decided to give each other a chance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking through my notes before posting this and I saw that that last bit, with Bluestreak and Smokescreen together in bed, was written in early January. The rest of the chapter was written a lot more recently. :)
> 
> After reviewing the upcoming chapters, I think I'll be doing one chapter a week for the rest of the month. They're longer, chunkier chapters, so I think that's ok? But in other news, I can definitely see the end of the writing. After I get a few more scenes down in the main story, I'll be able to marry it up with some scenes I've written that are further out, and then start working on the ramp up to the finale. 👀


	44. Joined Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and his team find evidence of some disturbing Decepticon experiments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief content warning for this chapter: described robotic and organic body horror, although nothing terribly gory.

Bluestreak came online to an insistent nudge on his fender and a stern voice above him. "Come on, corporal. We need to fuel up and get back on the road."

With a groan, Bluestreak checked his chronometer. "Already? I thought we had one more hour."

"Plans have changed. I'll fill you in while we fuel," Commander Springer said, then moved down the row to wake Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

Bluestreak backed away from the crystal formation he was charging next to, and transformed. He arched his back and shook out his sensor wings, trying to stretch all of the cables that had been bound tightly all night. He had never liked recharging in vehicle mode, but it was just one more thing that he'd mostly gotten used to since the war started.

Bluestreak sat down beside the generator and nodded at the burly mech who was already drawing rations for everyone. Impactor was the new Artillery mech in their unit, one who was hopefully a permanent replacement for Pointblank. He was an excellent shot and was a proper tankformer, able to launch much higher caliber missiles than Bluestreak was able to. He seemed all right, but Bluestreak wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He was definitely a mech of few words, although he and Springer seemed to get along well.

Once the full team was roused and fueling, Springer grabbed his own ration and crouched down beside the generator. "A few hours ago, a listening post over by Nova Cronum picked up an encoded distress call on a 'Con frequency. They were able to localize it to a deserted town about three hundred kliks from here. We're the closest ones available, so we got tapped to check it out." He looked around at the unit. "I know we're on our way back to Iacon and you were all looking forward to recharging in your own berths tonight, but we need to check this out. Any questions?"

"Only that Sideswipe owes me a drink," Rotorstorm said. He grinned at Sideswipe's squawk. "Two days ago I said we were going to get diverted for something on our way back, and our road time would get extended. He said there was no way, we were too close to Iacon to get diverted for anything."

Sideswipe grumbled into his ration. "We **are** too close to Iacon," Sideswipe said. "We hardly ever see anything within five hundred kliks of the city."

"Hardly ever does not mean never," Sunstreaker replied, and calmly accepted the punch Sideswipe threw at his upper arm with a rare smile. Bluestreak knew Sideswipe's punch meant he had no comeback to his brother, which mean Sunstreaker had won the argument.

Bluestreak smiled to himself as he downed his ration. He hoped he would never have to work in a unit without the twins; they made everything more bearable.

Their journey to the coordinates of the distress call was uneventful, even though it took them the better part of the day. Good roads between towns and cities were a thing of the past, and this road was no different; it was pockmarked with craters and expansion holes. Bluestreak remembered the road from his maps when he was doing routes and schedules for Qhasel Logistics, and recalled that it had been one of the better roads in the area.

So much had changed.

They reached the location mid-afternoon, just as the sun was slanting over the mountains to the west. Somewhere over that direction was Prowl, and Smokescreen. He missed them both, in different ways. Bluestreak could feel Prowl's presence in his spark, a constant reminder that there was someone who loved and cared for him, someone who was waiting for him to return. And even though Bluestreak couldn't feel Smokescreen, he knew that the other Praxian was waiting patiently for him as well.

Just that simple knowledge was a comfort.

The coordinates were a town, long deserted and partially destroyed. The unit pulled to a stop some distance from the town to assess the situation.

"What a dump," Impactor muttered.

"Doesn't look like there's many buildings left standing," Springer said. He peered through a scope for a moment before turning to Rotorstorm. "Run a quick perimeter around the town, scanning for anything that might indicate there's still someone here," he said. "If you draw any attention, ping me and retreat opposite us so we don't draw attention."

"Yes, sir," Rotorstorm said, and threw himself into the air in the smooth motion all rotaries had. A moment later he was flying towards the outskirts of the town.

Impactor had taken the scope from Springer and was peering through it. "There's a rutted set of tracks running up to that warehouse on the east side," Impactor said. "That's probably where they're holed up."

Springer nodded. "We'll wait for Rotorstorm to confirm, but I think you're right."

As they waited, Bluestreak ejected the battery pack from his rifle and checked it. He looked up to see Sideswipe smiling at him. "Sorry you're not getting back to Cop Bot or your Gambler tonight," Sideswipe said.

Bluestreak laughed quietly. "I'll see them soon enough," he said. He glanced up at Sideswipe after slotting the battery pack back into place. "So you're figuring that me and Smokescreen are serious?" he asked.

"Yeah. You two just give off those vibes," said Sideswipe. He tipped his helm to the side. "How'd you guess?"

"Because you gave Smokescreen a nickname," Sunstreaker said. His optics were fixed on the warehouse in the distance that Impactor had identified. "You only do that to mechs you care about, or the ones they care about."

Sideswipe paused, then nodded. "You're right, Sunny," he said. Then he shrugged and grinned at Bluestreak. "Anyway, your Gambler is a menace. I lost a hundred shanix to him a few weeks ago in a game of Praxus Hold 'Em."

"Serves you right. You're terrible at that game. You couldn't hold a straight face if someone paid you." Sunstreaker finally looked away from the building and instead focused his gaze on Bluestreak. "And you changed your stripes," Sunstreaker said. His optics flicked to Bluestreak's left sensor wing. "Half of that one's painted over." He turned and looked back at the warehouse intently, as if he'd never looked away. "Smokescreen did the same thing with his."

"Hey, that's right, I didn't even notice," Sideswipe exclaimed. He narrowed his optics as he looked at Bluestreak's wing, which now only had black and gold stripes along half of its length. "It **does** mean you're serious, doesn't it? Or is it even more than that?" He waggled his brow ridges at Bluestreak suggestively.

Bluestreak smiled. "We're pretty serious, I guess," he said. He tripled checked the connection on his rifle before resting it on his knees. "It's been a while since either of us has dated, so we're just seeing where it goes."

"And what does Cop Bot think about this?" Sideswipe asked.

Bluestreak shrugged. "He's fine with it. He's the one who told me to go after him," he said. He ducked his helm to hide his flush. The advantages of Bluestreak's involvement with Smokescreen went both ways for him and Prowl. While Bluestreak was getting his breakers blown by Smokescreen, Prowl enjoyed the vicarious arousal he experienced through their bond. Then, after Bluestreak returned to Prowl, their interfacing seemed even more intense as they reacquainted themselves with each others' frames.

In some ways, Smokescreen had improved Bluestreak's and Prowl's interfacing in ways neither of them had anticipated.

"Ahh, trines. What a great concept," Sideswipe said, tilting his helm upwards. "Two lovers and everyone's all right with it. Never an empty berth." He looked at his brother. "Maybe I should look for a trine instead of just a different mech to shack up with every night, huh, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "Like you’d find **two** mechs to put up with you on a regular basis."

With a smile, Bluestreak said, "Nothing's stopping you, you know. One of Prowl's oraculi wasn't Praxian. It's not like you have to be Praxian or Vosian to be in a trine; some mechs are just wired to love more than one mech."

Sideswipe's gaze looked distant. "What would a relationship with ten mechs be called?"

"With you? A disaster," Sunstreaker muttered.

Bluestreak laughed.

Rotorstorm finished his circuit of the town and swooped back in to the unit, transforming just before landing. "No obvious signs of anyone inside," he said. "But there are some weird energy signatures coming from that warehouse."

Springer ignored Impactor's grunt of satisfaction. "Any idea what those signatures might be? Could it just be some equipment that's been left on?"

Rotorstorm shook his helm. "I don’t think so. It's really strange. I've never seen anything like it. Maybe a mech who's in partial stasis or something?" He shrugged. "I'm not really sure."

Springer frowned and looked through the scope again.

"I don’t like this," Impactor said.

"Me neither," said Sideswipe. When Springer looked at him, Sideswipe said, "Can't we just set some explosives and blow it up?"

"That's your solution to everything," said Sunstreaker.

"What? It's effective," replied Sideswipe.

Springer was shaking his helm. "No. If there's intelligence or tech in there that we could use, we need to get it first. **Then** we can blow it up. And yes, Sideswipe, you can push the button," Springer said.

Sideswipe pumped his fist in the air.

They approached the warehouse carefully, spreading out and coming in from several directions as Rotorstorm and Springer observed from the air. When their approach appeared to garner no attention, Impactor drove up to the door of the warehouse.

 _It's unlocked_ , the tankformer sent over the team's frequency.

By the time Bluestreak rolled up to the door, Rotorstorm and Impactor had taken up sentry positions outside to make sure the rest of the team wasn't surprised by anyone approaching. The other four members of the unit slipped into the warehouse.

The room they entered was an office of sorts, cluttered with darkened terminals and shelves of equipment. _We'll come back here to see if there's any data we can use on those terminals_ , Springer subvocalized over the comm line, and motioned them through the next door.

It was dark. In the light of their headlights and lamps, Bluestreak could make out rows upon rows of tables or platforms in the wide open space, with something on each table. The team fanned out, weapons ready, and they approached the first row of tables.

On the table in front of Bluestreak was a mech. It was a ground frame, and nothing looked out of the ordinary, except... Its face was twisted into a horrified grimace. A stained Autobot badge on his chest gleamed in the darkness.

 _These are all Autobots._ Sideswipe's engine growled softly. _I thought the 'Cons stopped taking prisoners?_

 _All we knew was that they stopped using prisoners in their work camps._ Springer's tone was grim. He peered down at the remains of another mech spread across a table. _Looks like they found other uses for them._

 _They aren't all Autobots_ , commed Sunstreaker. When Springer looked up at him, Sunstreaker pointed down at the table he was passing. _That one's got a 'Con badge._

Springer vented softly. _Do a sweep,_ he said over comms. _Make sure there aren't any survivors. I don't want to accidentally kill an Autobot when we blow this place._

Bluestreak glanced down at the Autobot on the next table in front of him. His helm had been ripped from his frame, and his exposed spark casing was dark. There was no doubt this one was dead. Bluestreak moved on to the next table.

As they worked their way further into the warehouse, though, Bluestreak's unease grew. He didn't like the oppressive darkness, and there was an uncanny silence about the place that set him on edge. But the worst was the mechs whose faces he needed to look at.

The faces were frozen in fear, and in pain. Some of them look like they had died while screaming. Others looked horrified as they faced whatever fate had befallen them. And as they went deeper into the warehouse, the mechs looked more and more... wrong.

At first, Bluestreak thought it was just that the mechs had been injured, and maybe repaired poorly. But some of them had kibble on them that he couldn't place, or which seemed wrong for their frames. Others seemed to have parts from completely different frametypes welded onto them.

"It looks like they were trying to mash two mechs into one," muttered Sideswipe, just barely loud enough for Bluestreak to hear him. Bluestreak silently agreed. That's exactly what it looked like.

They were about halfway through the warehouse when there was a noise up ahead, as if something had fallen off a table with a clatter. All four of them instantly brought their weapons to ready, and Bluestreak fanned his sensor wings out to pull in any information about what the noise could have been.

Then they heard guttural clicks, followed by a voice.

"Help... me..."

Bluestreak's lines ran cold. He had almost understood the clicking noise; something about it nagged at his processor. He panned his sensors around the aisle in front of him, alert for anything. 

Suddenly a form reared up from the ground, just a few tables in front of him. It clicked rapidly, and then moaned again. "Help... me... pleaassseeee..."

Bluestreak stumbled backwards as the thing took a step towards him. As all four Autobots trained their lights on the figure, the thing flinched as if the light hurt it. It was a mech, but it was twisted. Instead of walking on two legs or some wheels like most mechs, it painfully staggered forward one step at a time on a veritable forest of spiky, jagged metal. And while the mech was grossly malformed, it still had the general appearance of a mech: a torso, an arm or three, and some heads.

_Heads._

The circle of light from Bluestreak's rifle spotlight shook as he aimed it at the thing's faces. Two Cybertronian faces were smashed together, their features warped and melted into one another, their mouths gaping wide in a silent scream. Their optics flickered erratically: one set of red, and one set of blue. And below their faces, where the two of them should have had chins, was a third face. An organic face. A face with large dark eyes and mouth tentacles that moved in jerky movements that spoke of pain.

The thing clicked again, and this time Bluestreak was able to make out the A'ovan words. "Friend, assist me. Send me on."

"What the frag is **that**?" Sideswipe exclaimed.

The thing took another step towards Bluestreak, all of its faces staring at him, their optics and eyes pleading with him. "Make... it... stop... Pleeaasseeee..." The words fell from one of the Cybertronian vocalizers at the same time the A'ovan clicked its desire to die again. "Send me to the great march."

Bluestreak pulled the trigger on his rifle and blew the thing's heads off.

* * *

As soon as they were close enough to Iacon for short-range comms, Bluestreak received a ping from Prowl. _I've been worried. You gave me a scare yesterday. Is everything all right?_

Bluestreak mustered up as much reassurance as he could, although he was running out of strength to do so. He had been sending bursts of reassurance to Prowl ever since Bluestreak felt the wash of worry from his bond mate the day before. _Team is intact. No one is injured. We're getting pulled into a debrief immediately upon arrival so I'll have to wait until after that to see you._ Bluestreak tagged his message with a glyph for love, and added, _I need some rest, but I also need to see you. And Smokescreen._

 _Did you want me to invite Smokescreen to our quarters?_ Prowl asked. Over the bond, Prowl felt unsure and strangely hesitant.

 _If you want. I don't want either of you to feel uncomfortable. But... I'd feel better with both of you nearby, I think,_ Bluestreak replied.

 _Then I'll speak to him. I'll see you soon, love._ Prowl sent him a single glyph indicating an embrace, and closed the connection.

By the time Bluestreak was done with his debrief, he felt numb. He usually felt drained after a particularly intense debriefing session, as the intelligence analysts worked to extract as much information from the unit's members as possible. But this seemed different.

Bluestreak just didn't have the processing power at the moment to figure out **why** it seemed different.

When he reached the door of their quarters, Bluestreak had barely even lifted his hand to key the door open when it slid aside, and Prowl stepped out.

"Prowl," Bluestreak murmured as Prowl wrapped his arms around him and let him bury his face in his collar faring.

"Have you fueled?" Prowl asked, drawing Bluestreak into their quarters and closing the door behind him.

"Even if you have, I'm pretty sure you've got room for a rust stick." Bluestreak lifted his helm from Prowl's shoulder to see Smokescreen standing next to Prowl's desk. The blue and red Praxian held up a small package and smiled. "I grabbed some for you yesterday when we thought that's when you'd be back."

Prowl was here. Smokescreen was here. They were both safe and alive, and untouched by the horror that Bluestreak had been witness to just a day before. Bluestreak could feel himself relaxing with every passing moment. "They gave us fuel in the debrief, but I'd love a rust stick."

"I found a few more movies we could watch, if you want," Prowl said. Bluestreak could sense Prowl gently feeling for Bluestreak's state of mind as he spoke. "Or we could just talk. Whatever you want to do."

Bluestreak sat on the berth and took the rust stick Smokescreen held out for him. He leaned against Prowl as his bond mate sat down beside him. "I think I just want to sit here for a while. I just want to know that you're both here with me." He patted the berth on the side opposite of Prowl and looked at Smokescreen. The blue and red Praxian hesitated as he cast a glance at Prowl, then slowly slid onto the berth beside Bluestreak. After venting quietly, Bluestreak said, "If you're both all right with it, that is."

Prowl looked at Smokescreen for a moment before turning and planting a kiss on the side of Bluestreak's helm. "I know how happy your relationship with Smokescreen makes you," said Prowl.

"And I've always known Prowl would be a part of anything I had with you," Smokescreen said, wrapping his arms around Bluestreak from the other side. "I would never want to put myself in between the two of you... Especially seeing what you have together."

Bluestreak let himself settle back into the embraces curling around him from both sides. "Thanks, you two, for understanding," he said. He vented softly and took a bite of the rust stick. "This was a hard one."

Prowl pressed his lips against Bluestreak's audial again and held him close. "You said none of your unit members were injured," he said. "So I'm guessing it was something you had to do." When Bluestreak hesitated, Prowl quickly added, "I know you were just debriefed. I can read the report tomorrow if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, I think I need to get this out one more time without being bombarded with questions." After taking another bite from the treat, Bluestreak leaned his helm back against Prowl's shoulder and closed his optics. "We stumbled across a... a lab or something, where they were experimenting on mechs, and organics. They were..." He shuddered as the images of the mechs in the warehouse resurfaced in his processor. "They were still alive." He paused, working his intake as he made sure that the rust stick would stay down. "Or rather, they were mostly alive."

He briefly described the monsters they'd found, dragging themselves around the warehouse in obvious pain. There were five of the monstrosities, each of them more horrible than the last. The final creation they'd found, before they decided to download the lab's databases and just blow the warehouse to the Pit, had been a nightmarish conglomerate of an Akkiel, two Povians, an Autobot cargo hauler and a Decepticon seeker.

Bluestreak wasn't sure he could accurately describe the spark-rending keening the thing made as all five people – they were all once **people!** – simultaneously begged for death.

Smokescreen had buried his helm in Bluestreak's neck as he spoke, his vents blowing warm air over Bluestreak's neck cables. When Bluestreak's words finally faded away, Smokescreen lifted his helm and kissed Bluestreak's cheek. "That's awful," Smokescreen whispered. "I can tell by your voice how horrible that must have been to see."

Bluestreak took another listless bite from the rust stick. "Yeah. I think it'll be a long time before I forget the sounds they made."

Meanwhile, Bluestreak could feel Prowl's processor working. "We've never seen anything like what you've described. Did you look at any of the data you downloaded?" he asked.

Blowing air from his vents noisily, Bluestreak rolled his optics at Prowl. "Not really," he said. "Just the few checks to make sure it wasn't corrupted or anything." He went to bite off another chunk of rust stick, but frowned when he realized that it was gone. "There was stuff about something called cybermatter and references to reformatting, and a few mentions of loyalty microcode, whatever **that** is... But it was all science speak and none of it made much sense to me."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully. "Fascinating. I'll be very interested to see what the Science Division makes of that data." Over the bond, Bluestreak felt Prowl's tactical systems turning something over. "And the fact that they're using their own troops for this could be extremely useful intelligence! Tomorrow I'll need to speak to-"

All of the horror and stress and fatigue that Bluestreak was feeling suddenly coalesced into a fiery blast of anger that he threw across the bond. " **Stop** that!" As Prowl flinched away from him, Bluestreak's engine snarled, and he glared at his bond mate. "Just for one minute, can you stop? Stop trying to think about how we can use this to our advantage, or how this will play into the other intelligence you have? Can you just take one minute and think about how those poor people died?"

Prowl's optics had gone pale as Bluestreak spoke. "I... I'm sorry," Prowl stammered.

Bluestreak could already feel his anger subsiding, and Prowl's remorse ran through the bond. Bluestreak shook his helm. "The pain they were in... What they must have gone through before we killed them was... We **killed** them, Prowl. We had to look them in the optics and saw them begging for death, and we **gave** it to them." When he felt Smokescreen take his hand, Bluestreak pulled a long vent. He already felt calmer after his initial burst of rage, and he patted Prowl's arm. "I've killed a lot of mechs in this war. I used to know how many, you know. I used to keep a tally. But I stopped counting a long time ago when it got too hard. But this... This was different. This felt personal." With his free hand, he reached out, touching the side of Prowl's helm to make sure his bond mate didn't look away from him, but Prowl simply stared back at Bluestreak with wide optics. "Yeah, we can probably do something with the info we collected. And... I don't begrudge you trying to find a way to use this to our advantage. That's your job, and you're slagging good at it. But tonight..." He rested his helm crest against Prowl's, and squeezed Smokescreen's hand tightly. "Tonight, just let me sit here, with the two of you, and remember that there are still good things left on this planet. Things worth fighting for."

A thin thread of regret still trickled through the bond from Prowl, but Bluestreak swamped their connection with love and understanding. Slowly, Bluestreak felt Prowl relax, his emotions settling. "I'm sorry, love," Prowl murmured. "Maybe I've been working a bit too much." Prowl vented softly and rested his hand on Bluestreak's abdominal plating. "I'm seeing strategies and possible troop movements everywhere I look. And right now, **you** need my attention, not those other things."

"He **has** been working a lot," Smokescreen said. "He's there when I report for my shifts and he's still there when I leave." He pressed his lips against Bluestreak's cheek again before resting his helm on Bluestreak's shoulder. "But you're right. It's helpful to remember the good things, like this." He placed his own hand on Bluestreak's hip, the tips of his fingers just centimeters away from Prowl's.

Prowl kissed Bluestreak's cheek from the other side again. "All of the good things in my life are in this room right now." He leaned his helm on Bluestreak's shoulder.

And so, wrapped in the warm embrace of both of his lovers, Bluestreak slowly let himself fade into a deep but troubled recharge.


	45. What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cozy movie night turns into something more for Bluestreak, Smokescreen, and Prowl.

After that night, after Smokescreen ended up recharging alongside Bluestreak and Prowl, Smokescreen started spending more and more time in their quarters.

It made sense, really. Smokescreen's quarters were tiny. If they wanted to sit at a table, one of them had to sit in the chair while the other sat on the berth. Smokescreen didn't even have an entertainment unit.

Bluestreak's and Prowl's quarters, on the other hand, had a little more room. There was the berth, which was a comfortable double-width. There was the desk, which could be used as a table when Prowl wasn't working at it. And they had an entertainment unit with a decent-sized screen, perfect for watching movies.

Smokescreen turned out to love historical dramas. Of course, none of the movies in the library included anything about the lead-up to the civil war they were now embroiled in, but that was all right; neither Bluestreak nor Smokescreen really wanted to watch a re-enactment of something they'd both lived through. Instead, Smokescreen queued up lots of stories set in the Shining Age, when Iacon was just a small town, and when Kaon and Vos were ruled by dynasties of mechs. Prowl called the dramas 'sordid romances with little basis in fact,' but Bluestreak noted that he joined them to watch the movies raptly whenever he was able.

...which wasn't that often. Prowl was usually busy until very late almost every night, caught up in all of the plans and movements and secrets that not even Smokescreen was privy to in his analysis work. But Prowl was blunt when speaking about how the war was going.

"It's not good," Prowl said one night, when it was just the two of them. Bluestreak had picked up some rust sticks from Axen (who had worriedly explained that his materials were running low again), and Prowl briefly stopped by their quarters to grab a data pad he was missing. He gratefully took three sticks from Bluestreak when they were offered, but frowned as he bit into one. "We're still in danger of getting overrun on every front. Even with our new combiner teams and the new bridge technology, we're struggling to keep the territory we have."

From his seat on their berth, Bluestreak frowned. He knew what Prowl was saying was true. More often than not, the missions he'd been getting sent on had become retrieval operations, helping to extract units that were in bad positions and moving them to other points that needed to be reinforced. "Is there really nothing we can do?" he asked. He looked around their quarters, sparse as they were. It had become home over the past few decades, and now he wondered how long they'd be able to stay there. "What happens if Iacon is attacked? Will we be able to hold it? And if not, where will be go?"

Prowl shook his helm and took another bite of rust stick. "I don't think it's an **if** , but a **when** Iacon will be attacked," he said. "It's far too tempting a target for the Decepticons to continue to ignore. That's why we're strengthening our perimeter around the city, in an attempt to hold them off for as long as we can. But the Prime has a plan." Prowl leaned over and kissed Bluestreak. "I can't give you details, but there **is** a plan in the works. I just hope we have enough time to see it to completion before the Decepticons decide to attack us here."

Bluestreak knew that Prowl meant the words as comfort. But for a long time after Prowl left to return to his office, Bluestreak stared dully at the leftover rust sticks, his processor anxiously churning through all of the possible outcomes of a full-out Decepticon attack on Iacon.

He fell into recharge that night with the sound of Praxus's warning sirens blaring in his processor.

Months went by, and Bluestreak's life fell into a strange new normal. He seemed to be spending lots of time on the road, but they were almost all medium-length jaunts, assisting with the defense of other Autobot installations around Cybertron, and running smash-and-grab missions for fuel and other supplies. Bluestreak had been troubled by news that a different strike unit uncovered another lab filled with creatures resembling those that Bluestreak's team had found. After that discovery, all mobile teams were advised to report anything that seemed the least bit out of the ordinary in the hopes of figuring out what the Decepticons were working towards.

Bluestreak was glad that his unit hadn't found any more of those poor people. He saw them often enough in his nightmares.

When he was in Iacon, Bluestreak split his time between Prowl and Smokescreen, spending the night with one when the other was unavailable. As Prowl's worry over the fate of the Autobot movement rose, Bluestreak sought to keep him grounded as much as he could. That wasn't always possible; Prowl's worries sometimes manifested in the form of bad dreams or tight, impenetrable processor loops. But Bluestreak did his best, providing Prowl distractions like games and movies and breaker-blowing overloads. Even though Bluestreak knew that Prowl understood what he was doing with these distractions, Prowl definitely didn't complain. Prowl knew he needed the diversions to keep himself running on an even keel and be useful to the Prime and Ultra Magnus, who were both depending on him more and more.

In turn, Smokescreen served as a grounding influence for Bluestreak. When Prowl's unconscious worries grew to be too much for Bluestreak to handle on his own, he would go to Smokescreen. His lover would listen, offering Bluestreak an outlet for his own anxiety. Once, after a particularly fraught night in which Prowl couldn't recharge at all and decided to just spend the rest of the night in his office, Bluestreak curled into Smokescreen's side and laughed bitterly. "I feel like I'm cheating, you know," Bluestreak said. "It feels like I'm cutting in line to get a counsellor. Maybe I should get a referral to talk to you about this stuff."

Smokescreen laughed quietly. "That wouldn't work," he said, and pressed his lips against Bluestreak's helm crest. "It's against professional ethics to get involved with your patients, and there's no way I could be an impartial audial." He smiled at Bluestreak, his deep blue optics glowing brightly. "I'm just listening as a friend."

"Just a friend?" Bluestreak asked, returning Smokescreen's smile and placing his hand on Smokescreen's thigh.

"Ok, I'm listening as a lover, too." And Smokescreen leaned down to kiss Bluestreak again.

On the very rare occasions when both Prowl and Smokescreen were able to take the night off, and when Bluestreak was not on deployment, all three of them would convene in Bluestreak's and Prowl's quarters. They would pile onto the berth, eat treats from Axen's, and watch a movie. Sometimes Prowl would bring a few data pads of work that he needed to complete, but he didn't mind sitting in the berth with his bond mate and his bond mate's lover. "I remember what you said that one night," Prowl told Bluestreak when he asked about it. "It's good to remember the good things in this world. And you, and the mechs who make you happy, are the good things in **my** world."

Which is how, one night, they all ended up in that usual way, sprawled comfortably across the berth. Prowl was sitting upright against the wall, his attention firmly fixed on the data pad in his hand. Occasionally he grabbed a rust stick out of the bag and nibbled on it thoughtfully. Bluestreak sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder, while Smokescreen was wrapped around Bluestreak's other side. They were watching another historical romance, one that involved a well-known story of the warlord and the hapless knight who caught the warlord's optic.

The movie was utter dreck, to be honest. The writing was terrible, and the acting was worse. But Smokescreen was enjoying it, and Bluestreak was just happy to have his two favourite mechs beside him.

At one point, when they were laughing over the fact that one of the actors seemed to have forgotten his line (and the editors just left the flub in the final cut), Bluestreak realized that Smokescreen's hand had settled familiarly on his inner thigh. It felt natural and comforting, having someone he trusted so much touching him there, especially while they were enjoying the movie so much. Bluestreak had shifted his leg, moving so that Smokescreen's fingers drifted higher up one of his transformation seams towards his modesty panel.

And why not? It felt good.

Smokescreen's fingers paused, and slid higher, then paused again. A moment later, Bluestreak felt the very tips of Smokescreen's sweep across his panel.

There wasn't even conscious thought involved when Bluestreak's panel transformed aside. It just... happened, and why not? Bluestreak was comfortable and warm, and his tanks were pleasantly full of rust sticks and fuel, and they were still giggling over this atrocious wreck of a movie. But one moment Smokescreen's fingers were touching the smooth metal of Bluestreak's panel, and the next they brushed upwards against the outer folds of his valve and the firm metal of his spike housing.

Bluestreak was positive he didn't make a sound when that happened. Oh, sure, the pitch of his engine changed. And his hips might have moved slightly, both in reaction to Smokescreen's barely-there touch and to get him to touch him more firmly. But Smokescreen's optics were still fixed on the entertainment unit, seemingly unaware of what his fingers were up to, and Bluestreak's fans did click up to a faster speed in response to the arousal that suddenly saturated everything in his processor.

Smokescreen's fingers brushed against Bluestreak's folds again, more firmly, with more purpose, upwards towards Bluestreak's spike housing which had **somehow** also spiraled open and the tip of his spike that was just peeking out, and when Smokescreen's fingers flicked past it Bluestreak **definitely** made a noise.

Suddenly, Smokescreen froze. When Bluestreak looked at him, he saw that Smokescreen's optics were focused on something behind Bluestreak.

Some **one**.

Prowl.

Bluestreak turned his helm, and saw Prowl staring down at the space between Bluestreak's legs, where Smokescreen's fingers hovered uncertainly below Bluestreak's half-pressurized spike. Prowl's ice blue optics were bright, and his expression might have looked blank had Bluestreak not been able to feel the burn of lust that was rapidly flaring up inside his bond mate.

Prowl's glossa flicked out to wet his lips, and then he looked at Smokescreen. It was surprising to Bluestreak how steady Prowl's voice was, considering the smouldering fire he could sense in Prowl's processor.

"You don't need to stop because of me," Prowl said. He glanced down at Bluestreak's array again, and Bluestreak could see the minute adjustment his optics made when he focused on Smokescreen's fingers, and how they rested gently on the edge of Bluestreak's spike housing. "And if you don't mind... I would like to watch."

And finally, on those words, Prowl's voice distorted, just a bit, with a faint squeal of feedback.

Smokescreen hesitated for another moment, his sensor wings making minute movements up and down as though he was considering Prowl's words. But then a slow grin spread across his face, reaching all the way up to his optics. "I'm good with it," Smokescreen said, and he turned his gaze onto Bluestreak. "Blue?" he asked.

Prowl's hand settled on Bluestreak's shoulder, just a gentle pressure as if to remind Bluestreak that he was there.

Was he all right with having his bond mate watch him and his lover explore each other's frames? Was he all right with being able to see and feel exactly how Prowl would react to Smokescreen's gentle touches, or hearing how Smokescreen would respond to the subtle changes in pitch of Prowl's engine as his charge rose higher?

Frag, **yes** , Bluestreak was all right with that. "I'm good," he said, and reached up to his own shoulder to lace his fingers through Prowl's.

"Well, then," Smokescreen said, and his fingers purposefully ran a circuit of Bluestreak's spike housing, coaxing his equipment out even further. "I should probably say that I've been thinking about this for a while." And then he slipped off of the berth to kneel between Bluestreak's parted legs.

Bluestreak only had a brief moment to consider Smokescreen's statement (how long, exactly, had he been thinking about a scenario like this?) before he felt Smokescreen's glossa trace the same path his fingers just had, running around the edge of his spike housing. Bluestreak's hips twitched, and he rocked his helm backwards onto Prowl's shoulder with a quiet whimper.

Smokescreen had proven himself to be good at many things when it came to interfacing. He was great at listening, and seemed to have endless patience when finding all of the places on Bluestreak's frame that made him moan and shudder. He was good at giving explanations, guiding Bluestreak to the right places and the right movements that drew the strongest overloads from his frame.

But Bluestreak had quickly learned that Smokescreen was **fantastic** at sucking spike.

So when Bluestreak's spike finished pressurizing, standing proud above its housing and throbbing in time with the spin of his spark, Bluestreak's anticipation for that first touch of Smokescreen's lips felt like it lasted an eternity. Bluestreak's fingers tightened around Prowl's, and he looked down at Smokescreen, who had turned his attention fully to Bluestreak's spike.

Smokescreen tipped his helm from one side to the other, as if seeing Bluestreak's spike for the first time. "I've told you this before, Blue, but you're beautiful," Smokescreen said, and wrapped his hand around the base of Bluestreak's spike, ignoring the rev from Bluestreak's engine. "Every centimeter of you is gorgeous." His optics looked up at Prowl. "Would you agree?" he asked.

Bluestreak felt Prowl shudder as Smokescreen turned his deep blue optics on him. "He **is** very handsome," Prowl said, his voice deeper and more halting than usual, as if he was labouring for the words. Prowl brushed his lips against Bluestreak's audial, and softly added, "I hope he knows that."

Bluestreak squeezed Prowl's fingers again.

With a soft smile on his lips, Smokescreen turned his attention back to Bluestreak's spike. Opening his mouth, Smokescreen engulfed the tip of Bluestreak's spike in his mouth, his lips closing tightly around it.

Smokescreen's intake was warm and wet, and Bluestreak felt a glossa twirl around the head of his spike while it was in Smokescreen's mouth. Bluestreak didn't even care that his fans were suddenly roaring as Smokescreen's took more of Bluestreak's spike into his mouth, bit by amazing bit.

Bluestreak had decided a while ago that the best part of Smokescreen's performance for this particular act was how he maintained optical contact, and his enthusiasm for every motion. Bluestreak watched, his processor slowly growing delirious with pleasure, as more and more of his spike vanished into Smokescreen's intake. And even though his mouth was busy, Smokescreen looked up at Bluestreak with smiling optics, his joy at Bluestreak's reaction evident in their blue glow.

Sliding back off of his spike, Smokescreen withdrew until only the tip remained in his mouth, then he surged forward again, taking more of it his second time down. As he moved, Smokescreen's glossa cradled Bluestreak's spike from beneath, while Bluestreak could feel the upper surface of his spike sliding against the top of Smokescreen's intake. Then Smokescreen was pulling back, just to the tip, and plunged down once more.

Smokescreen made a small sound of delight as his nasal ridge brushed Bluestreak's lower abdominal plating, and his sensor wings fluttered behind him. When he slid back again, his deep blue optics fixed on Bluestreak's once more, their corners turned up in joy.

Bluestreak thought he might have sworn; nothing terribly obscene, but just an exclamation of the depth of what he was feeling. There was the sensation of Smokescreen's lips and glossa slipping over his spike, sending waves of current flowing through Bluestreak's lines. There was the sight of Smokescreen bent over his lap, looking up at him with adoration and happiness. And there was the excitement he was feeling from Prowl, watching this other Praxian working to pleasure Bluestreak.

When Smokescreen reached up to grip Bluestreak's thighs to brace himself so he could double his effort, it was Prowl who groaned. And when Bluestreak reached down to stroke his free hand down the side of Smokescreen's helm vents, Smokescreen's optics fluttered along with his wings as he leaned into Bluestreak's touch.

Bluestreak was dimly aware that Prowl's spike had pressurized, and that Prowl's hand was wrapped around it tightly, erratically mirroring the slip and slide of Smokescreen's mouth on Bluestreak's spike. He could feel the need for release building in Prowl, a tight ball of electric pressure growing and... Or was that sensation building in his **own** array, as Smokescreen's lips formed a seal around his spike and he sucked, his cheeks hollowing slightly before starting to ravage him again, creating obscenely wet sounds.

In the end, it didn't matter whose climax came first. It never did when Bluestreak and Prowl were together. In an instant, Bluestreak's charge peaked, his engine screaming as his hips bucked upwards. Beside him, the motion of Prowl's hand on his spike grew uneven, and they both fell into the bond blissfully together as Prowl spattered his own abdomen with thick ropes of transfluid, and Bluestreak filled Smokescreen's intake.

As he sagged into Prowl's embrace, Bluestreak could only hear the roar of his cooling fans and a whimper from Prowl's vocalizer.

Bluestreak was probably only lost in a soft reboot for a minute, maybe less. But it seemed longer, floating in the dreamy haze of a good overload, and sensing the same from Prowl and-

Except, instead of Prowl's charge falling back down to its normal levels like it usually did after an overload, Bluestreak could feel Prowl's charge ramping back up again. He felt someone moving on the berth: a hand on his thigh and the cushion dipping beside him. He could hear Prowl's fans clicking back into a higher speed, and a soft murmur of words.

Bluestreak opened his optics and blinked up at Prowl.

Instead of looking into Prowl's optics, dimly lit with contentment, he saw that Smokescreen had climbed onto the berth and was straddling Prowl's lap. He held Prowl's helm tenderly in his hands, and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. From Prowl, all Bluestreak could sense was an overwhelming sense of delight and need. He could feel that Prowl **ached** for this, and he arched into Smokescreen's touch eagerly.

It was so incredibly hot.

"Oh... Frag," Bluestreak muttered as Prowl's hands settled on Smokescreen's hips.

At Bluestreak's choked words, Smokescreen broke apart from Prowl's lips, ignoring the whine that escaped the white and black mech. Smokescreen's optics were still bright, almost brighter than they were before as he looked at Bluestreak. "Is this all right with you?" he asked, and his voice sounded deeper and raspier than usual.

"Oh, absolutely," Bluestreak said. He turned himself, curling himself tighter info Prowl's side and moving his legs so that he wasn't in Smokescreen's way, before pulling Prowl's hand from his shoulder and bringing it to his lips. He felt Prowl shiver at his touch. "Prowl, you never told me you wanted this," Bluestreak said, not able to keep the smile from his face.

Prowl was looking at Smokescreen with dim optics, his mouth open and his fans running hard. "I didn't think I did." Prowl's optics flickered erratically as Smokescreen bent to run his glossa along Prowl's collar fairing; Bluestreak knew from personal experience how talented Smokescreen was with his mouth. "I was fine just –ah! – listening to you with him. Ah...!" Prowl's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as Smokescreen suckled on one of his neck cables, and Bluestreak could feel the rush of pure desire that caused in Prowl. "But then I saw... I saw how he moved, and I saw how he looked at you, and – oh, Primus!" Prowl's vocalizer fritzed then, sending out a blurt of unintelligible sound.

"The pair of you are so pretty together." Smokescreen bent lower as he spoke, kissing his way down Prowl's hood. "Bluestreak is so beautiful, but Prowl... The way your face lit up when you felt Blue enjoying himself, and the way you pulled him tight to you as you both overloaded... It was gorgeous." Smokescreen laved his glossa around the circumference of Prowl's headlight, seeming to delight in the sounds Prowl was making. "I was already taken with Blue, but the pair of you... It's almost too good to be true."

Prowl whimpered again, and made a visible effort to gather himself. "I wasn't sure," he sighed as Smokescreen's lips worked their way across his bumper to his other headlight. "I wasn't sure. I didn't want to mess up what you had together, and- Ah!" He arched upwards with a gasp as the tips of Smokescreen's fingers scraped down the broad width of Prowl's sensor wing. "I was content to just see Blue be happy."

As Smokescreen's mouth moved to the open gaps in Prowl's shoulder armor, licking and nibbling as he went, Bluestreak rested his hand on Prowl's abdominal plating, feeling the tacky wetness of Prowl's earlier overload. "I'm happy now, my light," Bluestreak said. He waited until Prowl's gaze jerkily shifted towards him before continuing with a smile. "I mean, how could I pass up seeing the two mechs I love most in this world enjoying each other like this?"

Prowl's optics closed as a smile flickered across his face, his expression echoed by a wash of joy and arousal over the bond. But Smokescreen glanced at Bluestreak suddenly, his sensor wings tipping straight up. He locked optics with Bluestreak, a half smile playing on his lips.

Oh. **Oh.** Bluestreak **had** said that out loud, hadn't he?

But then Bluestreak realized he'd meant it.

In response to Smokescreen's unasked question, Bluestreak nodded. "It's true," he said, and leaned forward to kiss Smokescreen. He tasted the bitter tang of his own transfluid still in Smokescreen's intake, but that only encouraged him to deepen the kiss. When they both finally pulled back enough to look into each other's optics, Bluestreak smiled. "I don't think I'd even consider this," he said, gesturing at Smokescreen, Prowl, and the berth, "if I didn't love you. Both of you."

Then Bluestreak felt a hand on his cheek, and at Prowl's gentle pull he leaned forward and kissed him as well.

Bluestreak felt a hand on his back, and he turned to look at Smokescreen. "Help me slide him down," Smokescreen said, shifting off of Prowl's legs and tugging on his hips.

He and Smokescreen gently moved Prowl so that he was lying down, Bluestreak arranging cushions beneath Prowl's sensor wings and Smokescreen slowly spreading Prowl's legs and bending down between them.

Bluestreak could feel the moment Smokescreen's mouth touched the outer edges of Prowl's valve, both from the streak of lust over the bond and by the jerk of Prowl's frame in his arms. "He's good at this," Bluestreak murmured into Prowl's audial as Smokescreen began to delve into Prowl's valve with his glossa. "I've told you about it, you remember. Now you can feel it for yourself."

Prowl whimpered again as his hips moved in small jerks. His hand floundered for a moment before finding Bluestreak's, and he held Bluestreak's hand tightly in his. "This is so much," Prowl gasped, his optics boring into Bluestreak's as wave after wave of pleasure rocked his frame. "But... I missed this. I did, I missed it so much and I didn't even know that I was..."

Bluestreak leaned down and pressed his lips to Prowl's as he thought about his words. What did Prowl miss? But as soon as he asked himself the question, Bluestreak knew the answer. Prowl missed exactly what he was experiencing: two sets of hands to hold, two mouths exploring his frame, two mechs to touch and hold him. And right on the heels of that revelation, Bluestreak knew why the overload he'd just experienced, just from a simple spike job, had been so intense.

He had missed it, too.

For a moment, Bluestreak's spark ached, keenly feeling the empty space where there had once been a third joined with his.

But Smokescreen was talking, and moving, shifting upwards. He gently pushed Prowl's legs further apart, slotting himself between them. "I think you didn't realize how much you missed this because you always put Bluestreak first," Smokescreen said gently, touching the side of Prowl's helm. He smiled affectionately down at Prowl. "You worry about him and do everything to make sure he's happy, ahead of anything for yourself. Isn't that right?" Smokescreen glanced at Bluestreak.

"It's true," Bluestreak said. He looked down at Prowl as well, whose optics were welling with coolant at the corners. Reaching out to brush the dampness away, Bluestreak said, "I'm glad that I was finally able to find someplace with rust sticks so I could bring you a treat for a change."

As Prowl laughed, Smokescreen leaned forward and kissed Prowl once more. Then he carefully guided his firm spike into Prowl's drooling valve, bit by bit. "I'm glad it's time for you to get some attention of your own," Smokescreen said. His voice sounded a bit strained as he pulled back a bit before sliding forward again. "Now, let's make sure you get what you deserve, gorgeous."

The next few minutes were nothing but a thrill for Bluestreak. As Smokescreen moved over and into and out of Prowl, Bluestreak pressed himself into Prowl's side, molding his frame to his bond mate's, murmuring encouragement and praise into Prowl's audial. The delighted noises escaping from Prowl rose and faded, crested and lulled as Smokescreen slowly brought Prowl to the edge and then back again. Each time he neared his peak, Prowl's face became more relaxed, more himself... More the way Bluestreak remembered him, back when they first met. Each time his charge rose and slipped just a bit higher than before, the sense of anticipation and joy built to an even greater level.

Bluestreak simply lay beside his bond mate and watched, delighting in what Smokescreen was doing for Prowl, and riding the wave of Prowl's arousal to another overload.

When that overload came, Prowl's back arched and his hand squeezed Bluestreak's almost painfully as he shouted out loud. And beside him, Bluestreak shuddered through his own release, mirroring Prowl's as the charge ripped through their bond and back again.

Minutes later, Bluestreak was roused by a quiet laugh. He lifted his helm from Prowl's shoulder to see that Smokescreen had pressed himself into Prowl's other side, sandwiching the white and black Praxian between them. Prowl's optics were closed, but a soft smile was on his lips, and Bluestreak could feel an immense serenity from his mate.

Smokescreen's hand rested on Prowl's abdomen, but he was looking at the entertainment unit. On the screen, the final credits for the movie were playing. Smokescreen noticed Bluestreak looking, and he laughed again. "We missed the end of the movie," he said.

"That movie was terrible," Bluestreak said. He slid his hand across Prowl's waist to rest on top of Smokescreen's.

With a smile, Smokescreen nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty bad," he said.

With his optics still closed, Prowl said, "I get to pick the next movie." He opened his optics just slightly, just enough for their icy blue glow to peek out. "For the next date." And he rested his hand on top of Bluestreak's.

"Sounds good to me," Smokescreen said, pressing a kiss into Prowl's helm vent.

"Same here," Bluestreak said, nuzzling Prowl's cheek.

And this time, the happy twirl of Bluestreak's spark was mirrored by the happy twirl of Prowl's. 


	46. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen becomes a constant in both Bluestreak's and Prowl's lives, but the war escalates.

Developing new habits can be difficult, unless the new habit is something comfortable and pleasurable. Having Smokescreen around quickly became a habit for both Bluestreak and Prowl.

The three of them seemed to fit together perfectly, with Smokescreen slipping into the tiny holes that had gradually developed between Bluestreak and Prowl over time. Smokescreen's laid-back approach was more successful in drawing Prowl away from his work than Bluestreak's pestering insistence. And the constant feeling of something missing from Bluestreak's life seemed to be lifted simply by Smokescreen's presence.

Meanwhile, Smokescreen was excited to have two more mechs to play Praxus Hold 'Em with. "Not for money!" he said the first time he suggested the game. He pulled out a deck of holograph cards, which he just happened to be carrying in his subspace. "Just for fun. Really!"

As expected, Bluestreak was terrible at the game, just like he had been in Rodion. But Smokescreen was surprised and then delighted to discover that Prowl was an extremely good player, and ended up beating Smokescreen soundly more often than not.

"We don't have to play again if you don't want to," Prowl had said after the fifth time in a row he'd beaten Smokescreen at his favourite game.

"Are you kidding?" Smokescreen replied, his sensor wings bobbing up and down excitedly. "It's been ages since I met anyone as good at this game as I am. You, gorgeous, are a challenge that I am more than willing to rise to."

Those words resulted in a shy smile and flushed cheeks on Prowl's face.

Smokescreen didn't officially move into their quarters, mostly because there wasn't really room for three mechs to live there comfortably all the time. There were nights when Bluestreak really needed a good recharge before a deployment, or when Prowl was busy finalizing some scheme for Ultra Magnus or the Prime. But on other nights, Smokescreen would happily join them in their berth, the three of them somehow making themselves fit into a space meant for two.

And now, Bluestreak did not worry so much about Prowl when he was on a mission. Once Smokescreen had become a fixture in their lives, Bluestreak knew that if something happened to him, Smokescreen would be there to support Prowl in any way he needed. Oh, sure, Prowl still worried about Bluestreak... But at least Bluestreak no longer had to fret that Prowl would just give up if he died.

On one of his missions, Bluestreak's unit was involved in a massive firefight, one of the worst that Bluestreak had ever seen. Their 'surgical strike mission' on a Decepticon base a few hundred kliks outside of Tarn turned into a rout. The base was far more heavily defended than the Autobots had been led to believe, in yet another intelligence failure that almost cost them dearly. Fortunately, a detachment of Autobots were within a day's drive, and they arrived to reinforce Bluestreak's unit and provide desperately-needed backup.

It was the first time Bluestreak had ever felt truly hopeless about his chances of returning to Prowl. But knowing that Smokescreen was with his bond mate gave Bluestreak a peace of mind that he would not have had previously, and he was able to focus all of his attention on the battle.

After the battle was over, the wounded were looked after and the dead were accounted for, Bluestreak wearily folded into his alt mode to get some much-needed recharge. Before allowing his systems to idle down, Bluestreak felt along the bond for Prowl, mostly to send him as much reassurance as he could, just in case Prowl had been alarmed by any strong emotions he might have picked up from Bluestreak during the battle.

At the distance he was at, Bluestreak could barely make out anything from Prowl. But then, very faintly, he could feel comfort and love.

Was Prowl with Smokescreen in that moment? Bluestreak hoped so; he hoped that Prowl had sought out Smokescreen after realizing that Bluestreak was in the fight for his life. He wondered if this is what Barricade had felt from him and Prowl, at the very start of the war, before Praxus, before their bonds were broken. Had Barricade known when Bluestreak and Prowl were together, taking comfort in each other's love?

Bluestreak decided that, yes, Barricade likely had known. Even now, years after hearing about Barricade's death, Bluestreak hoped that Barricade had gotten some consolation from that.

The war progressed, and the Autobots fought hard for every win they managed to achieve. As time went on, those wins seemed to come less and less often, and at more and more of a cost. Stories started to circulate of Decepticon troops capturing Autobots and torturing most of them, but forcing one or two to watch. After their victims finally succumbed to their injuries, the Decepticons would release the mechs they'd left alive.

They seemed to do this for fun, and for no strategic purpose. They seemed to do it just to be cruel, a conclusion that was backed up by the Decepticons that the Autobots captured. "Autobots don't deserve compassion," growled one of the Decepticons that Bluestreak's unit captured. "As General Straxus said... The Senate made Cybertron suffer, and we shall do the same to their Autobot drones." It was the same sort of tiring rhetoric that had helped start the war in the first place, and Bluestreak was always glad when they were able to access their prisoners' medical ports to shut down their vocalizers.

Not every captured Decepticon was able to be interrogated, however. Whenever a commanding officer was caught alongside their grunts, the officer **always** ended up dead within hours of capture. It happened with such predictable frequency that Medical and the Science Division collaborated on the autopsies, trying to figure out what was happening. The only thing that they were able to determine was that the mechs had all died of spark failure, precipitated by a command run at their protoform level of code.

The findings troubled Smokescreen. "We know that the 'Con troops are fanatically loyal to Megatron. I mean, there haven't even been any officer defections that I'm aware of," he said. "So I suppose it's not out of the realm of possibility that they have some sort of suicide program they run if they're captured. But to have almost **all** of the officers run it?" He shook his helm. "Surely some of them would have second thoughts. I can't help but think there's something else going on here."

The Autobots tried everything: putting captured officers into stasis as soon as they were captured, drugging them into insensibility, even plying them with high grade to try to raise their spirits. The only thing that seemed to work was putting the prisoners into full stasis lock; they could be kept alive apparently indefinitely that way. But as soon as they were brought back online, they died almost immediately.

The interrogations performed on the lower-ranking mechs provided no additional information. Some of them said that Megatron demanded ultimate loyalty in his officers, and that being captured meant you had failed. Others, usually the ones who were not quite as aggressive as your average Decepticon, would quietly say that giving your life for the Decepticon cause was the mark of a true hero. To Smokescreen, conditioning your troops to suicide when they'd been captured was nothing short of serious cruelty, and Bluestreak agreed.

But that wasn't the only cruelty that the Decepticons were committing.

One day, a detachment of Autobots came across a group of Povians and a herd of Akkiel making their way through the Borderlands. The Povians were half-starved, and the Akkiels' pheromones saturated the air around them with the scent of fear and desperation. 

The story they told was horrifying.

The organics who weren't able to escape the planet at the beginning of the war were still eking out an existence on Cybertron, mostly in Autobot-controlled areas. A few groups had gone to ground, using their knowledge of Cybertron's substructure to find safe oases under the surface. Apparently, the Decepticons had found one of these safe holds, and had swept in to capture every organic living there.

"They were experimenting on us," the eldest of the Povians said. "They were doing something that... changed us. It was something that interacted with organic matter." He held up his arm to stare at it before dropping it back to his lap. With drooping ears, he added, "Whatever they were doing, it was painful... And turned those people into monsters." He continued to stare at his hands. "We only managed to escape because they assumed we were too weak from hunger to move."

The stories the organics told were eerily similar to the horrifying monsters that Bluestreak's team had found a few months before. And still, the Science Division couldn't decipher what the Decepticons were trying to do with the technology, or even how it worked. Things started to feel very dark.

And then, the Autobots' main fuel depot in Kalis was destroyed.

The energon reserves in Kalis had been under heavy protection, as the depot was the main source of fuel for all of the mechs and ships in Iacon. Somehow, despite all of the surveillance and patrols, Decepticon operatives managed to breach the security and plant explosives around the depot's storage tanks.

The destruction was complete. In an instant, the Autobots' fuel reserves were halved, and everyone was immediately placed on much more strict rations than they'd been on before. In the aftermath, both Prowl and Smokescreen ended up pulling weeks of double shifts in Strategy and Analysis to sort out what the Decepticons might be planning next, and looking for a way to mitigate the damage.

The hit to the Autobots' operations was bad, but the damage to their morale was even worse. By now, everyone knew the war was going badly. Everyone knew someone who had been killed. Everyone had been on some mission or some campaign that had not gone as planned. And everyone was just waiting for the next big defeat, the one that finally brought the Autobot army to its knees. Everyone was waiting for the final hammer to fall.

By this time, Prowl's work had completely taken over the small desk in their quarters. Not a single night went by now that he wasn't going over some kind of report or analysis that he hadn't gotten to during his shift. The Prime's admonishment not to do work outside of his shift seemed to have fallen by the wayside; everyone was pulling double duty these days. Smokescreen was putting in very long hours seeing as many mechs for counselling as he could, and still managed to do several hours a day in Tactical assisting with the analysis work. Meanwhile, Bluestreak's unit was being called on more and more often to assist other detachments or to do targeted strikes as a distraction while other groups got away.

It was exhausting.

So the three of them took any chance for normality they were able to. On the occasions when their schedules synched up and they were all free at the same time, the standing routine was for Smokescreen to come to Bluestreak's and Prowl's quarters for movie night... And usually some interfacing. Enjoying some entertainment and each other's frames allowed them to forget about the war and how badly the Autobots were faring, just for a little while.

It was something they all needed, and they all looked forward to those nights.

On one such night, Bluestreak was sprawled on the berth while Prowl was tapping away at a stack of data pads, his data cable plugged into the base's datanet to perform some analysis work on the side. When the entry chime for their quarters beeped, only Bluestreak looked up.

Wondering who would be dropping by unannounced, Bluestreak opened the door to find Smokescreen standing in the hallway. "Smokey!" Bluestreak said, stepping aside so that Smokescreen could enter. "Why didn't you just come in like usual? You've got the passcode, and you know we were expecting you." He grinned. "You know you don't need permission anymore."

Smokescreen gave Bluestreak a half smile and shrugged. "I don't know. It just seemed appropriate somehow." Before Bluestreak could ask any further questions, Smokescreen's optics narrowed as he looked at Prowl, and the stack of work on the desk. He pointed at Prowl and looked at Bluestreak. "Has he fueled?"

"Yes," Prowl said tersely. His optics were still fixed on the data pad on his hand.

"I brought him his ration a while ago and he's already finished it," Bluestreak added, gesturing at the empty cube on the desk, half-hidden behind some data pads. He sat back down on the berth and patted the surface next to him invitingly. "He's just finishing up a report. He said he won't be long."

With a nod, Smokescreen sat down on the berth beside Bluestreak. But he fidgeted, his fingers tapping on his knees arhythmically. He pulled out his one-shanix chip and started flipping it between his fingers, then vanished it back into his subspace. "So, uh, what did you two want to watch tonight?" Smokescreen asked, sounding distracted.

"There was that comedy about the minibot and the Seeker that we were talking about watching," Bluestreak said. He grabbed the listing for the base's entertainment library and started flipping through the screens. "Or if you wanted something more serious, Prowl mentioned a documentary about the wildlife in the Sonic Canyons."

"Hmm. Sure, either of those is fine," Smokescreen said. The shanix chip reappeared in his fingers for a few moments, then it disappeared again. Behind him, his sensor wings twitched up and down erratically.

"Are you all right?" Bluestreak asked, leaning forward to look at Smokescreen's face. "You seem really nervous."

The laugh that Smokescreen made sounded strained. "Ah, it's nothing. It's just something I've been thinking about," he said. He rose from the berth and paced the two steps to the door, and appeared to examine the comm panel embedded into the wall beside it. He picked at the edge of it. "Did you ever notice how the panels in every room are at slightly different heights?"

Standing up, Bluestreak stood beside Smokescreen and gently put his hand on his shoulder. "Smokey... If there's something you want to talk about, I'm willing to listen," Bluestreak said. He smiled at Smokescreen's wide-opticked look. "I may not be a trained counsellor like you, but even the counsellors need someone to talk to, right?" He lifted his wings encouragingly.

"What? Oh. No. It's all right. It's nothing that..." Smokescreen vented quietly, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before laughing again. "Aww, slag it. Sure, let's talk. No sense in putting this off anymore." He turned around and looked at Prowl, who had stopped his work and was staring at the two of them. "Can I get both of you to sit on the berth? That might make it easier."

"Certainly." Prowl detached himself from the datanet, then rose and switched to the berth. Bluestreak sat beside him, and he could feel the sense of uneasiness that had come over Prowl in the last few minutes. Prowl grabbed Bluestreak's hand, and looked up at Smokescreen. "What did you want to talk about?"

Smokescreen stared at them for a moment before shaking out his sensor wings. "All right. Well." He reset his vocalizer, and started pacing the few steps back and forth in front of the berth, from the desk to the door and back again. "I know we've only been doing..." He paused, and made a gesture to include the three of them before he started pacing again. "We've only been doing whatever this is for less than a year. And I know it's not very long in the grand scheme of things. But I don't think that I can keep doing this. Not this way." He made another gesture with his hands as he walked. "There's too much uncertainty, and too much in question for me to keep things going the way they have been."

As Smokescreen spoke, Prowl's uneasiness had risen to a wave of anxiety... One that Bluestreak couldn't help but match. Prowl's sensor wings were frozen in place behind him, and he stared at Smokescreen with wide optics.

Bluestreak, however, had no trouble finding his voice and asking what they were both wondering. "Smokey... Are you breaking up with us?"

That brought Smokescreen to a sudden halt, and he gaped at Bluestreak. "What? No! Of course not!" He paused as if to think, then laughed and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, slag. I'm so bad at this." He stood in front of Bluestreak and Prowl, continuing to gesture as he spoke. "Halfsteel and I proposed to Trident, but Steel did all of the talking. He was always so much better with stuff like this. I'm a better listener than a speaker."

This time it was Bluestreak who had been shocked to silence, and Prowl was the one who spoke for both of them. "Propose?" Prowl asked, and now Bluestreak could feel a curl of joy weaving its way back through the bond.

"Yeah. I mean... Look, I know it's traditional for the pair to propose to the third. It's not supposed to go the other way around. But..." Smokescreen slowly sank to his knees in front of them, and reached out to take each of their hands in his. "I didn't realize how lonely I was without Steel and Trident. I mean, I **knew** I was, but I didn't really understand it... Until I wasn't lonely anymore."

"Smokescreen..." Prowl murmured. His optics were bright as he looked at the other Praxian. "We've enjoyed your company as well, especially these last few months."

"And we've been grateful for you being here," Bluestreak added. He squeezed Smokescreen's hand. "I hope you know that."

Smokescreen held Bluestreak's gaze, then looked at Prowl. "I think I've found the sparks who can help heal the holes in mine. So..." He dropped their hands, and reached into his subspace. He pulled out two rings of woven wire and held them in his palm for a moment, staring at them, before looking back up. "Bluestreak and Prowl of Praxus, please allow me to make your lives, your sparks, and your trine whole." His optics flickered slightly and his voice crackled with static. "Will you do me the honour of allowing me to be your third, and to bond with you both?"

"Oh, Smokescreen-" Prowl started to say. Over the bond, Bluestreak could feel Prowl's joy and delight at Smokescreen's proposal, emotions that echoed his own. But in an instant Prowl's emotions flipped to irritation, then to shock, and then to fear... Emotions that were mirrored on his face. "Oh, no," Prowl muttered.

Smokescreen's sensor wings sagged. Bluestreak frowned at Prowl, uncertain what to make of Prowl's sudden change of mood, when suddenly the base alarm startled them all. The claxon was loud, commanding their attention. It was followed by the strident voice of the base's security officer.

"Force protection alert five. Repeat, force protection alert five. Inbound enemy units detected. All combat-ready mechs report to your muster point and await orders. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is **not a drill**. Inbound enemy units detected. All combat-ready mechs report to your muster point immediately." 

Smokescreen lurched to his pedes, staring at the comm panel next to the door. "Fragging Pit!" he swore, then looked at Bluestreak and Prowl. His hand closed around the rings. "Look, forget it. I-"

Before Smokescreen could continue, Prowl leapt up from the berth and flung his arms around Smokescreen's neck. He kissed Smokescreen hard, holding him steady by his helm vents, before grabbing one of the rings from Smokescreen's hand. "Yes!" Prowl exclaimed, raising his voice to be heard over the alarm. "We will bond with you, Smokescreen, to make our lives and our sparks whole. We **will** bond with you in trine." Prowl slipped the ring onto his right thumb, and then turned to look at Bluestreak expectantly.

As Prowl looked at Bluestreak, the only thing Bluestreak could sense over the bond was an overwhelming joy, threaded through with fear for what was to come and Prowl's fierce determination about facing the battle ahead.

Bluestreak also stood, and took the other ring from Smokescreen. He jammed it onto his left thumb and pulled both of the other Praxians into an embrace. "Yes," Bluestreak said, planting a kiss on Smokescreen's cheek. "And we seriously do have the worst timing in the world, don't we?"

Smokescreen's crestfallen expression had vanished, and was replaced by a joyous glow that Bluestreak didn't think he'd ever seen on him. He grabbed both of them tightly. "All right, look. You **will** survive whatever's coming, do you hear me?" Smokescreen growled. He stared at both of them intently, one and then the other. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost either one of you at this point."

"The same goes for you," Prowl said. He lifted his hand to his audial, then flicked his sensor wings. "But we really should be getting to our stations." He palmed open the door, and paused to look at the chaos of mechs running back and forth in the hallway outside. The claxon was even louder outside, accompanied by flashing red lights. Prowl looked back at Bluestreak and Smokescreen. "I'll be in the Command wing," he said, and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Stay safe... The initial reports I'm receiving don't look good."

"Yes, sir, Lieutenant Gorgeous!" Smokescreen said, sketching a snappy salute. Then he smiled. "I'll be careful."

Bluestreak sent Prowl a burst of love. "You be safe too, my light," he said.

Prowl nodded once, then transformed and drove off up the hallway.

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen. "Where's your muster point? Mine's at the Artillery weapons locker."

"Mine's the main garage." Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's helm, and brought their crests together. "Clear skies, beautiful."

Bluestreak closed his optics and nodded. "Smooth roads, love."

Then they both transformed, and drove in opposite directions towards their battlestations.

At the weapons locker, Bluestreak divided his attention between loading battery packs into his storage compartments, and listening to the instructions being given by the Artillery officer. "We don't have a complete picture of how many Decepticons we're facing, but based on initial reports it looks like they are sending the bulk of their air force. It's imperative we do not let them through, for as long as we're able," Roadkick said, marching back and forth down the line of soldiers. "Each of you are being assigned a sector and a launch position. Your targeting area will be from your launch position to five kliks out from the base. You have permission to fire on any aerial units inside that sector. **Anything** , regardless of their ping sign." He glared around. "All of our fliers will be holding a line five and half kliks out, and they are being warned that if they breach the five klik barrier they may receive friendly fire. That's on them. Your job is to bring down **anything** that comes inside that distance. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" called back all of the mechs. Bluestreak finished loading his gear and added his voice to those of the other Artillery mechs.

Roadkick nodded. "You trained for this. You know your function. It's time to do the Prime proud." Then he gave them all a snappy salute. "'Till all are one, soldiers," he said. "Now, roll out!"

As Bluestreak reached his assigned location, halfway up a ramp leading to the Citron Expressway, he reached out to Prowl. His bond mate had narrowed the connection between them, but he could still feel the undercurrent of anxiety from Prowl. And he was sure that Prowl could feel the same from him.

 _Their whole air force_ , Bluestreak thought, and a shiver ran through his frame, rocking him on his wheels. The Decepticons were sending everything they had... Just like they'd done in Praxus.

Only this time, Bluestreak wasn't running. This time he wasn't desperately driving for cover, confused and terrified. This time, he was armed, and ready to face what was coming.

Bluestreak balled up as much of that confidence and resolve as he could, and sent it to Prowl. His bond mate sent him a brush of gratitude, then narrowed the bond again. Prowl needed to concentrate.

And so did Bluestreak. He focused his targeting sensors on the skies, and waited.

Bluestreak didn't have long to wait. A few minutes later his sensors picked up three air frames, cruising in formation past the five klik boundary that was his to maintain. Bluestreak fed the data directly to his cannon, aimed, and fired off two shots in quick succession.

Firing energy bolts from his cannons was different than using missiles, in that it didn't rock him back on his shocks like a missile did. But they also weren't as effective as a physical missile, and he routinely needed more than one shot to bring down a target. However, Bluestreak also had retained his expertise in physics, and had refined his targeting systems over the last century to make use that of information.

His first blaster bolt caught the left-most Seeker on its left wing, which caused it to yaw right. His second bolt hit the right Seeker on its right wing, causing it to yaw left.

The nose cones of both trailing Seekers simultaneously slammed into the side of the leading Seeker. In the resulting explosion, all three Seekers tumbled from the sky, out of control, to slam into the ground some distance away.

With a sense of satisfaction, Bluestreak focused his sensors on the skies over his sector once more. Three Decepticons down... Thousands more to go.

Over the next few minutes, Bluestreak fired his cannons hundreds of times. Most of his shots hit, but some did not as the Seekers took evasive action. He hoped that the base's anti-aircraft guns were able to catch the few flight units that slipped by him. The sheer number of Decepticon flyers was horrifying, and Bluestreak could do nothing but focus all of his attention on his targets, keep his battery packs full, and dodge the fire from the oncoming Decepticons.

At one point, a Decepticon gunship flanked by six Seekers crossed the threshold into the territory that Bluestreak had been charged with protecting. Bluestreak quickly transformed so he could ready one of his missiles, and then loosed it just as the large gunship passed overhead. He heard the explosion as his missile hit, but the reinforced frame of the gunship merely shuddered before it lumbered past him on its way towards the base.

 _Sector T598, a 'Con gunship just got through with six Seekers!_ Bluestreak pinged to the base's defense channel. He received an acknowledgement, but nothing else.

There was nothing for him to do but target and shoot at the next Seekers coming through.

The Autobot channels were filled with frantic chatter: officers calling to their troops, fliers calling to each other. Cries for assistance. Calls for help that suddenly went silent. Bluestreak filtered out the orders that did not apply to him and the maydays that he could not aid, but even then the voices and messages on the Autobot frequencies told a brief story of a battle that was quickly turning sour.

The Decepticons were getting through their defenses.

The Autobots were losing.

Bluestreak had just transformed and dove out of the way of a strafing run from a Seeker that had been flying lower than most of the others, when he received a priority comm, one that overrode all of the other messages he was hearing. "This is Optimus Prime to all Autobots," said the deep voice. "Iacon has fallen. Make your way to an escape shuttle, or to an outlying rendezvous point. We’ve suffered losses, but we have not lost the war. We live to fight another day. Optimus Prime out."

They were giving up? Bluestreak transformed and rolled backwards under an overpass, casting his sensors skyward. Above him, the sky seemed to be filled with Seekers bearing purple Decepticon brands.

Over the Autobot channels, officers repeated the Prime's orders to their troops: Retreat. Escape. Live to fight another day.

Roadkick's voice crackled over the Artillery channel. "All units, you heard the Prime. The base has fallen. Don't come back here; you'd have to wade through 'Cons just to get here. Get out of the city to a rendezvous. We're sending up the jammers; all comms will be blocked in a minute. When you get clear of the jammers, maintain comm silence." He paused, then added, "You all did good, and you gave others a chance to escape. Now get yourselves to safety. Roadkick out."

From his hiding place, Bluestreak scanned the sky again while he plotted a path out of the city. The skies were filled with Seekers and Decepticon ships. If he stuck to the lower roads, he could use the cover of the upper highways and remaining tunnels to reach the perimeter of Iacon, and from there make his way to the rendezvous point near the ruins of Nova Cronum. If he didn't run into any problems along the way, he should be able to make it there in two days. Per the evacuation procedures that were drilled into him when he and Prowl were assigned to Iacon, he had four days to make it to the rendezvous before the extraction ship arrived.

_Prowl..._

Bluestreak started driving, and touched the bond. He hadn't felt any great shocks that would mean Prowl had been injured, but it was still a relief to feel Prowl's response of love and reassurance. He was alive... Somewhere. Bluestreak hoped that as part of the Command team, Prowl was sticking with the Prime. Surely the leader of the Autobots would have good security; Prowl had often mentioned how protective General Ironhide was of the Prime.

_Smokescreen?_

With comms down, it was difficult to get specific ideas or questions across the bond. But Bluestreak still pictured Smokescreen's smiling face in order to conjure up the emotions he felt when he thought about him. He followed that up with a querying nudge, and hoped Prowl got the message. _Where is Smokescreen? Do you know? Is he all right?_

The response from Prowl was a flash of anxiety and negativity. He didn't know where Smokescreen was, and he was worried.

Well, that made two of them.

But for now, Bluestreak's main mission was to get to that rendezvous point. He carefully navigated his way through the debris-covered entrance to the Yuss Tunnel, hoping that it hadn't collapsed during the fighting.

And meanwhile, he hoped. 


	47. Preparing for Exodus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak flees Iacon.

Bluestreak met up with Impactor on the outskirts of Iacon.

It had been a bit dicey getting out of Iacon. The Decepticons had already started setting up a perimeter around the city, and were busily firing on any Autobots they saw making a break for it. Bluestreak was almost caught by one of the patrols, but they were distracted by an Autobot shuttle that had roared overhead at the same time. As the Seekers gave chase to the escape ship, Bluestreak slipped into the final tunnel leading out of the city.

After that tunnel, it would just be a lot of dusty driving and watching the skies.

Impactor had not seemed surprised to see Bluestreak emerging from the tunnel onto the road he was driving on. Nothing seemed to really faze the tankformer. He merely sent Bluestreak a short-range ping, and waited while Bluestreak caught up to him.

"Any damage?" Impactor asked gruffly as soon as Bluestreak pulled up even with his rear treads.

"Just a few scrapes and dents. You?" Bluestreak asked.

"I'm fine," Impactor said. "Let's roll."

They didn't speak for several hours after escaping from Iacon. As the landscape around them changed from the flat-topped rise on which Iacon sat to the convoluted switchbacks leading down to the plains between Iacon and Nova Cronum, they needed to hide less and less often from Decepticon aerial patrols. That meant they were making better time. It also meant that it gave Bluestreak more time to think.

He had a lot to think about.

First, Bluestreak had half-expected himself to be bothered by what had happened in Iacon, considering the parallels to what had happened in Praxus. But the sounds of the Decepticons screaming past overhead and the din of explosions around him had not upset him the way he'd expected it to.

Bluestreak knew that part of that was the conditioning he'd received in Basic training, and his experiences as a gunner in the units he'd served in. The war had simply become part of his life, whether he liked that or not. He had become inured to the realities of battle, and took them in stride.

But more than that, Bluestreak knew that he was no longer helpless. In Praxus, he had been a civilian. The only weapons available to him were his mind and his speed. Neither of them had been enough to save him or Urzul or Liat or his other co-workers from severe injury or death. He hadn't been able to do anything to save his family, or Prowl's, or Barricade's.

Now, however, Bluestreak was armed with shoulder-mounted cannons and missile launchers. He carried a rifle and a sidearm, and he knew how to use them, and he used them well. He was able to drive and keep a sensor on the sky looking for enemies at the same time. He had killed more Decepticons than he could count. He was more than capable of defending himself and those around him.

Bluestreak knew those things had made a huge difference in how he had reacted to the attack on Iacon. Whether he liked it or not, he had been made into a device of war... And he was very competent at what he had been trained to do.

The other thing that Bluestreak thought about was Smokescreen. Bluestreak let himself relive the last few moments he and Prowl and Smokescreen had all been together. Bluestreak wasn't sure when he'd started thinking about the three of them as a unit. It had been a while, since well before Smokescreen's proposal. But now, Bluestreak and his lovers were all intrinsically linked in his mind, as three parts of the same whole. All that needed to be done now was to join them together tangibly, by their sparks.

Bluestreak fervently hoped they would be given that chance.

Each time he thought of Smokescreen, Bluestreak sent a questioning nudge to Prowl. His bond mate was getting further and further away, a sign that he had escaped Iacon safely and was on his way to a secure harbour with the Prime. Prowl always responded to Bluestreak's wordless inquiries the same way: with a caress of love, and a sense of negativity. _No word on Smokescreen._

Bluestreak tried not to dwell on that. The Autobots were scattered, and communications were on mandated silence. It would probably be a few weeks or more before they were able to fully catalogue their losses.

But his mind kept drifting back to Smokescreen's awkward proposal, and how his expression had shifted to one of joy when Bluestreak and Prowl accepted his rings. He wanted nothing more than to see Smokescreen's easy smile and hear his carefree laugh again.

Bluestreak and Impactor stopped briefly for fuel, taking shelter under a rocky overhang to hide themselves from prying sensors in the sky. As he downed his ration, Bluestreak examined the ring he had placed on his thumb. In the rush to battlestations, Bluestreak had not had a chance to look at the ring closely. The ring was made out of flat strips of metal, braided together in an intricate pattern to accentuate the blue, red and yellow colours, echoing Smokescreen's colours. It was gorgeous. Bluestreak wondered if Smokescreen had paid someone to make the rings, or if he made the rings himself.

Bluestreak hoped he would get the chance to ask him.

When Bluestreak pulled a quiet vent, still thinking about how Smokescreen's lips curled upwards in his brilliant smile, Impactor let out one of his grunts. "You usually talk a lot," the tankformer said. "But you've hardly said anything since we met up. You sure you're all right?"

Bluestreak looked up at Impactor in surprise, then shrugged. "I'll be fine," he said. "I'm just... thinking. I'm worried about my mates."

"Your bond mate? Well, you'd know if he's safe, right?" Impactor asked.

"One of them, yeah. But the other..." Bluestreak held up his hand, showing off Smokescreen's ring. "We were going to trine, but... he'd only just proposed." He dropped his hand and took another sip of fuel. "We don't know where he is."

"Huh. Trines, right. I forgot that about you Praxies." Impactor fell silent for a few minutes as they both drank their fuel. Then he said, "I heard that you were in Praxus when it was bombed. Ugly, that whole thing was. It's what finally convinced me to join the Autobots, you know." He narrowed his optics as he looked at Bluestreak. "You **are** gonna be all right, yeah? You're not gonna throw a flashback fit or anything after what just happened to Iacon?"

"No, I'm not!" Bluestreak lifted his sensor wings in vague indignation before catching himself. He got the impression that Impactor was just trying to look after him, in his odd, gruff way. Bluestreak lowered his wings again before replying. "I'm sure I'll be fine, really." He gave Impactor a smile and added, "But thanks for checking."

"Hmph. You always did seem pretty steady. You're a good mech. I hope you find your mate, or mates, or whatever you all are to each other." Impactor finished his fuel and grabbed his rifle from the ground beside him. "We better get going. We've still got a long way to go."

Bluestreak nodded and threw back the rest of his fuel. It was time to focus on the next steps: get to Nova Cronum, get on the extraction ship, get to wherever they were all being evacuated to, find Prowl... And hopefully Smokescreen, too.

* * *

As the ship got closer to Tyger Pax, Bluestreak's excitement grew.

He was exhausted, but safe. He and Impactor had made it to Nova Cronum with a day to spare, and both of them had immediately been assigned to patrols around the rendezvous point to assist any inbound Autobots who needed help, and to keep watch for Decepticons. By the time the extraction ship arrived, a large troop carrier shuttle accompanied by four heavily-armed gunships, there were about three hundred Autobots waiting to be rescued.

When the shuttle took off and set course for the new base - Tyger Pax, it turned out - Bluestreak had sent Prowl a burst of relief and happiness. It was returned almost immediately, but was tailed by a stroke of worry. Obviously, Prowl had not received any word about Smokescreen yet. But threaded through the worry was a touch of reassurance. Somehow, Prowl was remaining optimistic. He hadn't given up yet.

Bluestreak tried to take that to spark through the long flight to Tyger Pax.

Tyger Pax was located in the southern hemisphere, almost completely surrounded by the Tetrahex Badlands. Before the war, the city had mostly been dedicated to mining. It didn't take long after the war started for its energon mines to be exhausted. Since then, it had been pretty much ignored by both factions, mostly because it was so distant from anything else useful, and it seemed to be of little strategic importance.

Everyone on the shuttle seemed surprised when they found out they were going to Tyger Pax. None of them even knew there was a base there.

While they were still some distance from Tyger Pax, the shuttle dropped low, flying through the rumpled terrain of metal and rock that surrounded the base. Breaches in the metal exterior of the planet appeared here and there, revealing gaping chasms just under the surface. Bluestreak understood why this area had been called badlands: he couldn't imagine trying to construct a road through terrain like this, or even a settlement of any kind.

The shuttle wove through several more canyons before suddenly swerving left, and then diving precipitously. Almost everyone on the shuttle gasped, including Bluestreak, and there were a few choked screams. When the shuttle wove and dropped again, Bluestreak wished he could see where they were going; as it was all he could see out the tiny windows was jagged metal rushing by far too close for comfort.

Then again, maybe it was better if he couldn't see. He stifled another gasp as the shuttle banked left, rose slightly, and then dropped again.

Sitting next to Bluestreak, Impactor grinned when he saw Bluestreak's fingers digging into the armrests. "First time to Tyger Pax, huh?" he grunted. When Bluestreak nodded, Impactor chuckled. "You know it's underground, right?"

"Uh, sorta?" Bluestreak said, trying not to let his voice quaver as the shuttle dropped again. Did they **have** to go so fast? "I thought some of it was above ground."

"Aw, some of it used to be," Impactor said, waving his hand, unconcerned by the turbulent bouncing they were experiencing. "But all the mining operations were below ground. At the beginning of the war, the 'Cons bombed it all to slag after they realized the place was all mined out. But they were sloppy, and left some of the larger shafts open. Like this one." The tankformer gestured out the window, apparently at the sheer face of metal flying past just a few tens of meters from the shuttle. "I worked here as a miner before the war. I remember they used to test shuttle pilots with this approach. If the pilot didn't glitch out during the landing, or quit right afterwards, they passed the test."

The shuttle rose again, then dropped once more. Bluestreak was sure he was putting dents in the arm rest. He'd check later. After they landed. "So, uh, how's this pilot doing?" he squeaked.

"Not too bad," Impactor said. He grinned as someone sitting in front of them shrieked at the sound of something heavy banging onto the roof of the shuttle. "He's hardly hit anything yet."

Bluestreak made a noise that he hoped sounded confident, or at least not terrified. He closed his optics and starting counting his ventilations. Across the bond, he could feel Prowl's concern, threaded through with a very soft sense of amusement.

Slagger. Prowl had probably felt the exact same way when he arrived at Tyger Pax.

Bluestreak had never been so happy to hear the loud thunks of the shuttle's landing gear deploying and the whooshing sound of the anti-gravs firing. By the time the door to the shuttle opened and the evacuees started filing out, Bluestreak had decided that he would drive out to the next location he had to go, thank you very much. He did not want to have to go through that trip again.

If there hadn't been a huge queue of mechs behind him waiting to get off of the shuttle, Bluestreak might have stopped just outside the ramp just to gawk at the sight that greeted him. They really were underground! Huge walls of rock and metal rose above him, creating a roughly arched ceiling that seemed to rise endlessly above him. The bay was large enough to hold at least a dozen shuttles, and it looked to be about half full. Bluestreak spun around slowly, and thought he caught sight of the tunnel that his shuttle had just come through. A network of bridges and walkways criss-crossed the space above, giving the impression of a huge city that had been completely built underground.

As Bluestreak gaped at the stunning complex, a familiar voice spoke in his audial. "You told me you took the intraplanetary transport from Praxus to Iacon. That also traveled underground, and went much faster. Surely you didn't spend that whole trip on the verge of a processor glitch like you did just now."

Bluestreak whirled around and threw himself into Prowl's arms. "That was totally different!" Bluestreak exclaimed after kissing Prowl soundly. He gestured around them. "The transport was on a track. You knew it wasn't going to hit anything! And there wasn't as much jostling."

"My bond mate: skilled combat veteran and strike team member, who's afraid of a little turbulence." Prowl's smile only grew as Bluestreak gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder, and he slung his arm around Bluestreak's waist. "I'm very happy to see you, Blue," he said quietly. "Are you all right, other than being a bit freaked out?"

"I'm fine," Bluestreak replied. "And I'm happy to see you, too." He leaned against Prowl as they started walking towards the edge of the shuttle bay, where there were sergeants checking everyone getting off of the shuttle and giving them directions. "So nothing about Smokescreen yet?"

Prowl shook his helm. "Nothing yet. But it's too early to start worrying. With Iacon now in the hands of the Decepticons, everyone had to scatter. Some mechs would have had to go very far to reach a rendezvous point. There's at least two dozen points that haven't even reported in yet." Prowl sounded and felt confident. "There's still time. It's definitely not time to start worrying. Not yet, anyway."

Bluestreak nodded. "I'll try to be patient," he said.

Prowl squeezed Bluestreak's waist as they reached the check-in point. "Let's get you signed in, and then I'll show you what we've been hiding here." Prowl's smile was backed by his relief at having Bluestreak with him once more, and a wisp of excitement.

Tipping his helm to the side, Bluestreak looked at Prowl curiously. "What do you mean, hiding?"

Prowl pointed at the line for check-in and gave Bluestreak a gentle nudge to take his place. "Check in first. Then I'll show you."

The check-in process was mercifully swift. Bluestreak received his parking assignment (which turned out to be in a garage arrangement; there weren't enough bunks for everyone), his fuel ration code, and his duty assignment. Bluestreak puzzled over his duty assignment as he walked back to where Prowl was waiting. "I don't understand what I've been assigned to," he said. "It just says 'Stores and Supplies Coordinator.'" He tipped his sensor wings upwards in confusion. "What am I coordinating? Am I not going to be a combat mech anymore?"

"For now, no one is a combat mech." Prowl gestured towards a corridor leading into the bowels of the base, and they started walking. "The hope is that we can hide from the Decepticons long enough for us to take off, but to meet our timelines we need everyone working to get things ready for launch."

Bluestreak was listening, but also peering into side tunnels and rooms as they walked. The whole base seemed to be riddled with caverns, and there was activity bustling everywhere he looked. But he frowned at Prowl when his last words sunk in. "Launch of what?" he asked.

"That's where we're going. I'll show you," Prowl said. The smile on his face and his emotions through the bond felt decidedly pleased. "Anyway, because you have a background in logistics, and I know you have a good processor for figures, you've been assigned to organize rations and other supplies amongst the ships." Prowl gave Bluestreak's waist another squeeze as he guided them down a side corridor. "There is a lot of work to do, and you'll have the civilian Autobots to assist you. But we need someone very skilled at this sort of work to make sure all of the ships receive all of the things they need, and ensure that they're loaded and stowed safely as soon as possible." He smiled at Bluestreak. "General Ultra Magnus heard about the efficiencies you put in place for ammunition inventory when you were injured, so when I told him of your specialization and suggested your name for this role, he immediately agreed with the assignment."

"I'm going to be managing logistics?" Bluestreak asked, and even before Prowl nodded he could feel excitement building in his spark. How long had it been since he'd done any real management work? It had been before the war, so at least a century. The prospect of working in his chosen specialization was something he didn't think he'd ever get to do again.

Now Bluestreak could understand why Smokescreen had felt so elated when Bluestreak had finally talked him into finishing his specialization in counseling, and putting it to use.

The rest of what Prowl had said nagged at him, though. "But what are you talking about? What ships? Are we going somewhere?"

"That is the plan," Prowl said, and he gestured ahead of them. "This has been the biggest secret that the Autobots have been holding."

The corridor opened into a huge cavern, even larger than the one Bluestreak's shuttle had landed in. It was so large that its ceiling lost to darkness. Scaffolding and cranes filled the space around them, being worked on by hundreds of organics, mechs, and drones. And in the middle of the cavern, their noses pointing upwards to the unseen roof of the cave, sat three huge cruisers.

Bluestreak's mouth hung open as he stared at the spacecraft. "Where did these come from?" Bluestreak asked. He looked at Prowl, who was smiling at the ships with no small amount of satisfaction. "Did we build them? Are they gate-capable?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes, the Autobots built these, with a lot of help from Povian engineers and Akkiel workers. And they use an adapted form of the bridge technology that we took from the Decepticons, rather than a jump gate." Prowl locked his hands behind his back as he stared up at the ships. "We are afraid that the Decepticons may have damaged or otherwise compromised our system's jump gate, so we needed a different way to travel." Looking back at Bluestreak, Prowl gave him a small smile. "We've been pouring as many resources as we could into this for about five years now." Dipping his sensor wings apologetically, he added, "It was top secret, and I couldn't tell you anything about it. Not even Smokescreen was privy to this information. If either of you had been captured and interrogated..." Prowl shook his helm. "The risk that the Decepticons would find out about this was too great."

"I understand," Bluestreak said, backing his answer with sincerity. He knew there were any number of things that Prowl might not have told him, and that was just something he accepted as part of Prowl's role in the war.

Prowl was looking back up at the ships again. "Our energon situation isn't nearly as bad as we led everyone to believe, but we did need a large reserve to fuel these ships. And we also wanted the Decepticons to think that we were in dire straits. Although, we weren't expecting them to hit the fuel depot in Kalis." Prowl's sensor wings flicked up and down. "That forced us to accelerate our plans, but fortunately the work teams have been able to keep up with the new deadlines."

Bluestreak's attention was torn between the pleased expression on Prowl's face, and his own curiosity. "So, we're leaving Cybertron?" he asked. When Prowl looked at him, Bluestreak narrowed the bond slightly to hide his own uneasiness. "Where are we going?"

Prowl gestured vaguely with his hand. "That's still to be determined, but the Science Division says they have several candidate systems already in mind. They're presenting them to the Prime and the rest of the Command team tomorrow. Then it will just be a matter of loading them, crewing them, and then leaving Cybertron."

 _Leaving Cybertron!_ Bluestreak looked back up at the ships. Now that Prowl had mentioned it, he could definitely see the Povian influence in the design: they were squat, ungainly ships that had none of the elegance of A'ovan ships and very little of the blockiness of a typical Cybertronian cruiser. But they looked sturdy and efficient, which is what Povian engineers were known for. And if they were built by Akkiel, the workmanship would be excellent.

Bluestreak had no question the ships would get them all off of the planet safely.

But something inside Bluestreak felt like it was wilting.

He looked down when Prowl took his hand. "Are you all right?" Prowl asked. His concern swept through the bond as he looked at Bluestreak intently. "I remember that after Praxus, you wanted to leave. I didn't blame you. It was my first thought too, after making sure you were going to be all right, but there weren't any ships available. And now there are." Prowl gestured at the ships above them. "What's wrong?"

Bluestreak hesitated as he gathered his thoughts before speaking. "After Praxus, I wanted to run because I didn't want to get involved in the war. I just couldn't see myself fighting. I... I was afraid of having to fight Barricade." He looked down at his hand, where his fingers were entwined with Prowl's. "But now, after all this time, after how hard we've fought... This just feels like we're giving up."

At Bluestreak's words, Prowl nodded, and his sensor wings sagged a bit. "We're going to lose this war if we stay here," Prowl said. "We've looked at thousands of scenarios, and almost none of them result in the Autobots being victorious if we stay. So we're leaving... But we're **not** giving up." Prowl pulled on Bluestreak's hand and waited until Bluestreak looked up at him again. "The plan is to regroup and rebuild. We may be able to align ourselves with some capable aliens; many of our old allies might be interested in helping us fight back against the Decepticons, considering what they've done to our organic citizens. And then, once we're stronger, we can return, and fight the Decepticons, and reclaim our planet from them."

Frowning, Bluestreak looked up at the ships again. "What if no one wants to fight with us? What if we can't make ourselves strong enough to defeat them? I mean..." He knew his wings had fallen against his back, but he didn't care. Prowl could sense how he was feeling. "It's not like we can build our ranks without Vector Sigma. We'll be dependent on our organic allies."

Prowl was silent for a long time before he replied. "I know. And trust me, the Prime knows, too. The Matrix is the key to restarting Vector Sigma, after all." He brought Bluestreak's hand to his lips briefly before continuing. "The Science Division downloaded the schematics for Vector Sigma, but it's **of** Cybertron. Without Cybertron, without the smelting pits, and without enough fuel to power Vector Sigma, there **are** no new sparks." He squeezed Bluestreak's hand again. "That's why it's **so** important that we find new and powerful friends to fight alongside us. The Prime knows we can't do this alone."

Bluestreak could feel a whine building in his engine, and he stiffened to keep the sound from escaping. "But what if we **can't** find new friends?" he asked. "What if no one out there is willing or able to help us?" He stared at their hands, intertwined. "What will happen to us then?"

Stepping in front of Bluestreak, Prowl put both of his hands on Bluestreak's shoulders and looked directly into his optics. "Whatever happens, whatever the future holds - whether that's finding a way to win this war, or settling on another planet – we will figure out how to build a future together. You, and me... And Smokescreen." Prowl reached down to take Bluestreak's left hand. He held it up, and gently kissed the ring on Bluestreak's thumb. Over the bond Prowl was broadcasting resolve and confidence. "The three of us **will** find our way forward, whatever comes."

Bluestreak met Prowl's gaze, and let his anxiety flow through their connection. "Do you really think we have a future?" he asked. "I mean, a future after the war?"

Prowl's resolve sharpened, and he leaned forward to rest his helm crest against Bluestreak's. "Yes, I do," he said, then looked up at the ships that towered over them. "I feel more confident about our chances right now than I have since the beginning of the war." He looked back at Bluestreak, his ice blue optics filled with certainty. "We **will** have a future. Together."


	48. Lost and Found...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Prowl wait to see if Smokescreen made it out of Iacon safely.

Trailbreaker turned out to have an idea of where Smokescreen might be.

Much to Bluestreak's delight, Trailbreaker was one of the mechs who had been assigned to help organize and load the supplies onto the ships, once Bluestreak and his team decided what had to go where. It was almost like they were back at Qhasel Logistics, with Bluestreak preparing shipping manifests for Trailbreaker to haul goods to Kalis.

Trailbreaker had arrived at Tyger Pax at about the same time as Prowl did. "I was assigned to help evacuate the Medical bays," he told Bluestreak. "They were a priority, so we got lifted out of Iacon even before the Prime gave the order to leave."

"That makes sense," Bluestreak said as he tapped his ration code into the fuel dispenser. "And where's Hound?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," Trailbreaker said. When Bluestreak looked up at him in concern, Trailbreaker smiled and waved his hand reassuringly. "I can tell he's all right. He was assigned to help evacuate the civilians in the garage. He's still pretty far away, but he feels pretty calm. Everything seems to be going well. I think they had some tense moments that first day, but things seem to have settled down." He waited while Bluestreak collected his ration, then tapped his own code into the dispenser. "And you know Smokescreen must be with him, right? All of the defensive specialists were either assigned to Medical or to the civilians."

"No!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "I didn't know!" He flared his sensor wings outwards and put his hands on Trailbreaker's shoulders. "Is he all right? Can you tell? Is there any way for you to check with Hound?"

Trailbreaker grabbed Bluestreak's left hand. Before Bluestreak could apologize for getting into Trailbreaker's personal space like that, the large truck tapped the ring on Bluestreak's thumb and smiled at him. "Is this what I think it is?"

Bluestreak flushed. "Yes," he said, holding still while Trailbreaker examined the ring closely. "Smokescreen gave them to me and Prowl right at the start of the assault on Iacon." Bluestreak laughed a bit as he remembered that moment. "For an instant I thought Smokescreen had somehow talked Red Alert into sounding the warning claxon to, I don't know, emphasize his proposal."

It was Trailbreaker's turn to laugh. "Red Alert would never do that." He turned Bluestreak's hand over, peering at the ring. "This is gorgeous."

"Thanks," Bluestreak said quietly. "I never got the chance to ask him where he got it."

Trailbreaker straightened up and dropped Bluestreak's hand. "I'm sorry," he said. He shook his helm. "And no, I don't think I can check with Hound. There's the comm blackout, of course. And we didn't really talk about Smokescreen enough to..." He shrugged helplessly.

"I understand," said Bluestreak. Unless you and your bond mate had a common frame of emotional reference for something, it was difficult to get any specifics across a bond connection. As far as Bluestreak knew, Hound and Trailbreaker had only spoken to Smokescreen in passing. As Trailbreaker collected his own ration, Bluestreak said, "But let me know if you hear anything, all right?"

"Absolutely," Trailbreaker said. He thumped Bluestreak on the shoulder. "Now, let's see how many of those refining modules the Science Division wanted us to put on each ship."

It was several days before there was any news. Bluestreak spent all of his time busy, from the moment he transformed in the morning and carefully maneuvered his way through the mechs recharging in alt mode around him, until the moment he found a parking spot and folded down into a dreamless recharge. Busy was fine with Bluestreak. Busy meant he had less time to worry about Smokescreen, and busy made the days go by quicker so that he wasn't wondering when they would receive news.

But when news did come, it wasn't what Bluestreak and Prowl had been hoping for.

"We got out of the city fine," Hound said when his shuttle finally arrived in Tyger Pax. He leaned heavily on Trailbreaker as he waited in line at the check-in point. "But we ran into a patrol just beyond the Perimeter Bridge. They strafed us and... I think there might have been some missiles? I'm not sure, there was a lot going on."

Trailbreaker had been looking Hound over as he spoke, and kissed the side of his helm. "Your leg hurts. Did you get that looked at?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Hound said. "Just a strained cable. I was a bit luckier than some. During the attack, the bridge collapsed. Not everyone made it." His voice drifted off for a moment as he closed his optics. Then he seemed to gather himself, and he looked at Bluestreak again. "Half of the group was still on the city side of the bridge. I'm pretty sure Smokescreen was with them. They backtracked into the city, and we headed to our rendezvous point." He shook his helm. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to them."

Bluestreak felt his sensor wings droop as Hound spoke. Beside him, Prowl laced his fingers through Bluestreak's hand. "Thank you for the information, Hound," Prowl said calmly, although Bluestreak could feel the anxiety twining its way through Prowl's spark. Prowl gestured at the check-in desk. "We'll let you go; I'm sure Trailbreaker wants to make sure you're all right."

Trailbreaker pulled Hound tight against him and nodded solemnly. "I hope you hear from Smokescreen soon."

As they walked back towards the storage caves, Prowl slung his arm around Bluestreak's waist. "If there's one thing I gathered from reading mission reports where Smokescreen is involved, it's that he is very resourceful," Prowl said. Bluestreak could feel Prowl trying to force himself to be optimistic. "I'm **sure** we'll hear something soon."

"I hope so," Bluestreak replied.

He just hoped that when they did hear something, that it would be good news.

* * *

Not everyone had good news, of course.

"Axen was riding in a trailer with a group of organics and mechs without vehicle alt modes," Tycho told Bluestreak later that day. Tycho had arrived on the transport with Hound, and Bluestreak had found him in line for rations. The truck crossed his arms over his bulky chest. "I saw him get in the trailer at the garage. I was just happy he'd made it in from the city as soon as he heard the sirens. Primus knows I've drilled it into him where he should go." Tycho's engine growled quietly as he stepped forward with the line. "And then... When that missile hit, I watched the whole trailer fall into the chasm. No one on the bridge made it." He shook his helm. "A lot of good people died there."

Bluestreak pushed down the surge of fear that came over him. Hound had said he was sure Smokescreen wasn't on the bridge yet when it collapsed. Bluestreak lowered his sensor wings. "I'm sorry. I know you and Axen were good friends."

"Yeah. We were," Tycho said. "He was a great guy." He stood in silence for a moment before looking at Bluestreak with a hopeful expression. "I know you speak A'ovan. What else do you know about them? I want..." His vocalizer didn't crackle, but he paused for a moment to collect himself. "I want to do right by Axen. You know, rites or a ceremony or whatever. I know their families are important to them, and he didn't have one anymore. Pit, I don't even know any other A'ovan." He grimaced. "And... He was my friend. So I want to make sure he gets a good send off."

Bluestreak frowned at the floor as he thought. He wondered how many A'ovan were even left on the planet. Maybe a few dozen? He had only seen three or four since coming to Iacon. Bluestreak wished he'd thought to ask Axen if he'd met any others. He looked up at Tycho as the ration line moved forward another few steps. "Did he ever tell you the name of his stable?" he asked. "You know, his family."

Tycho seemed to deflate. "No," he said. "It never came up."

Patting Tycho's arm, Bluestreak shook his helm. "It's all right," he said. "We can make do without it. But let's talk to the Povians who are in the base here. They might know where to get some of the incense the A'ovans use."

As it turned out, asking around netted them a wealth of useful details. The Povians didn't know where to get incense, but they knew who to ask. A herd of Akkiel, after consulting amongst themselves for a few minutes, produced a long stick of light-coloured wood, which they said was the incense A'ovans used for some of their religious rites. A civilian mech, who worked as a data clerk in the Autobots' library, happened to have a recording of A'ovan funereal chants.

And then, after word got around that Axen had been lost during the evacuation of Iacon, several friends of Tycho's said they wanted to attend the makeshift rites. Many of them had been regulars at his cafe, and all of them wanted to help say goodbye to the organic who had made their days in Iacon a bit more cheerful.

So a few days later, in a quiet corner of the base, Bluestreak watched as Tycho carefully lit the stick of incense. As soon as the stick started to smoulder, giving off the pungent scent that all A'ovan seemed to carry around them, Bluestreak tapped the data pad in his hands. On the small speakers they'd borrowed from Lieutenant Blaster, the monotonous clicks of A'ovan chanting filled the small alcove.

Bluestreak closed his optics and let the alien language wash over him. The scent of the incense and the sound of the chanting brought memories of the ceremony he'd attended for Dorgu, long before the war, or losing Barricade.

He leaned against Prowl and let himself remember.

After the recording finished, Tycho reset his vocalizer noisily. "I know we're all here because Axen meant something to us," he said. "To me, he was like an anchor, reminding me of what life used to be like before this fragging war. He gave me a little spot of normal life to retreat to when I'd had enough of life on the base." He heaved a vent and stared down at the incense. "I'm gonna miss our conversations."

One by one, everyone gathered there said something they remembered about Axen. When it came to Bluestreak's turn, Bluestreak made tight fists with his hands in the A'ovan gesture for sadness. "Our friend has joined the great march," he clicked in A'ovan. Then, in Cybertronian, he added, "I will miss him a lot."

Standing beside Bluestreak, Prowl bowed his helm and lowered his sensor wings. "I echo everything that everyone has said. And... I will very much miss his rust sticks."

"Damn right," someone else said emphatically. "We'll all miss his treats!"

The laugh that swept through the small group made Bluestreak smile. He was sure that Axen would have approved.

After the improvised memorial, Bluestreak and Prowl slowly walked back towards the garage. They were both low on energy and in need of recharge. Bluestreak slung his arm around Prowl's shoulder as his bond mate leaned against him heavily.

"Are you all right?" Bluestreak asked, gently feeling along the bond. Prowl's side of their connection was quiet, but steeped in a soft grief.

"I think so," Prowl replied. "It's just that... What if he doesn't come back?" The thin current of anxiety that had been winding its way through the bond for days become stronger for a moment. "I don't want to do this for him."

Prowl didn't have to tell Bluestreak who he was talking about.

Bluestreak pressed his lips against Prowl's chevron as they walked. "I don't either," he said softly. Memories of the two of them grieving for Barricade alone in their quarters swirled through his processor. How would they – how **could** they grieve for a bond mate they hadn't even bonded with? Paint their stripes white and gold, then immediately paint them over with the black and gold of mourning? He looked down at the ring on his thumb. "I really hope we don't have to."

Prowl said nothing, but buried his face in Bluestreak's shoulder.

* * *

Bluestreak threw himself into his work. There was so much to do, and it was easier for him to bury himself in work than worry about Smokescreen.

Bumblebee arrived on a rescue ship a day after Hound landed in Tyger Pax. The cheerful yellow mech greeted his old friends with the same upbeat attitude that Bluestreak remembered from before the war, and Bluestreak immediately asked to have him assigned for the outfitting effort.

The amount of work needed to stock all three ships with as much fuel, supplies, tools and other items necessary for a long voyage was huge. Bluestreak immediately assigned all three of his old coworkers to a ship so that they could supervise the loading and storage of everything the ships would need. "Think of this as Qhasel Logistic's last big contract," Bluestreak said one morning as he and his team met to discuss the day's work.

"We've got this," Bumblebee said, and Trailbreaker and Hound agreed. Bluestreak smiled, glad that he had his friends with him for this task.

Part of the problem was that they didn't have a clear idea on what the launch deadline would be. Prowl said that the Prime wanted to wait as long they could, to ensure that as many Autobots as possible made it to Tyger Pax before they launched. But they also lived with the knowledge that the Decepticons could descend at any moment, having discovered their location. With so many Autobots in one place, it would be an almost trivial task for the Decepticons to completely wipe the Autobot army off the face of Cybertron with one decisive attack.

So they hurried, and made as much of their time as possible, knowing that they may need to launch at any moment... With or without the Autobots who were still out there, somewhere.

Fortunately, Bluestreak had very little time to dwell on where Smokescreen might be. Every day, one or two evacuation ships arrived, bringing with them a fresh influx of mechs and organics. As they arrived, the mechs who were in good enough condition to work were assigned to different teams around the base: keeping watch for Decepticon activity that might mean they'd been detected, helping the Akkiel put the final touches on the ships, and assisting Bluestreak and his team outfit the ships for their journey.

Unfortunately, at a certain point, having more hands to help didn't necessarily mean things got done faster. "I **know** that Command wants everything done now," Bluestreak complained to Prowl one night as they drew their rations and prepared for recharge. "But throwing resources at a problem doesn't always help get things done faster. You know when you make energon gels, and you have to wait for them to set up after adding the gelling agent?" When Prowl nodded, Bluestreak continued. "Adding more gelling agent won't make it gel faster. In fact, it might ruin the final product. Throwing more mechs onto our team is not helping us finish loading the ships faster. We're having to spend more time organizing mechs and telling them what to do, time that could be better spent making sure each ship is getting the supplies it needs."

Prowl hummed, then nodded again. "I see. I'll speak to Ultra Magnus and make sure no more mechs are assigned to your team." He lowered his sensor wings seriously, and added, "But you do understand that time is of the essence. We know that two evacuation ships were taken down while en route to Tyger Pax. It's possible the Decepticons are already interrogating anyone who may have survived. It's possible they may already know we're here." The near-constant anxiety that Prowl was broadcasting sharpened.

"I know," Bluestreak said, and lowered his own wings. "Trust me, we're very aware that we may need to leave at any time. We really are doing as much as we can."

"I know you are," Prowl said, and slung his arm around Bluestreak's waist as they walked to the garage.

Neither of them mentioned the worry hanging over them both: the fact that Smokescreen had not yet arrived in Tyger Pax.

It turned out there was no lack of work for mechs, however. A blanket communications silence had been placed over the base in order to keep its electromagnetic noise as low as possible. That meant that there were no comms, no pings, not even any text messages. Nothing could be sent to someone, even on base. The only way to get information to someone was either to deliver it verbally, or to put it on a data pad and physically give it to the recipient.

After Bluestreak's objection about being given too many mechs to properly supervise, most of the incoming mechs were reassigned as couriers. Information that would ordinarily be sent over comms or through pings was now delivered by an army of mechs. Within a few days, the tunnels and corridors of Tyger Pax buzzed with constant activity as couriers ran messages from one team to another.

That presented a new problem for Bluestreak: all of the activity was very distracting. The supply team was working in a series of shallow alcoves in the main hanger for the ships, small caves that provided little privacy and almost constant distraction as mechs drove back and forth outside them.

Bluestreak quickly learned to keep his helm down as he worked on his spreadsheets and manifests, double checking his figures and altering requirements on the fly as new information was added. Security changed how many weapons and battery packs were to be loaded onto each ship. The Science Division had a new device they wanted loaded on the Ark 1, but that meant moving some of the lab equipment from Ark 1 to Ark 3. One of the evacuation ships brought eight tons of unrefined energon; could that be divided between the three ships? And so on.

He was in the middle of just such a calculation, analyzing the updates that Medical had provided as newly injured mechs arrived on evacuation ships, when he felt a brush of joy and excitement from Prowl. Before he could send anything back to his bond mate, Bluestreak heard a familiar voice say, "I heard that you were looking for me."

Whirling around, Bluestreak saw Smokescreen leaning against the door of the alcove, a smile on his face. "Smokey!" Bluestreak exclaimed, and launched himself at the blue and red Praxian. "Oh frag, we missed you so much!"

Smokescreen laughed as he caught Bluestreak in his arms. "I missed you, too," he said. Or rather, he tried to say it, but his words were muffled by Bluestreak's lips. But a moment later, as Bluestreak tightened his grip around Smokescreen's shoulders, Smokescreen hissed in pain.

"What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked, immediately stepping back and putting his hands in the air.

"I'm fine. It's just a wrenched wing and some blistered paint," Smokescreen said, turning slightly to show that his shoulder armor was scorched, and his sensor wing was sitting at an odd angle. "It's already feeling better than it did when it happened."

"I tried to get him to go to Medical to have it checked out, but he insisted on seeing you first," Prowl said. He had been standing behind Smokescreen, and now he stepped forward, his wings quivering in barely restrained delight. "And I knew you wanted to see him too, so I didn't press the issue."

Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's hand and held it up. He seemed to relax a bit when he saw the ring on Bluestreak's thumb. Smokescreen pressed his lips to it, then held Bluestreak's hand to his chest and stared at him intently. "Now, Prowl said I didn't dream that you both said yes. But after I proposed, the alarms sounded, and we all went driving off in separate directions and..." Smokescreen shook his helm. "I heard it from Prowl already, as soon as I got off the transport. But can I hear you say it again, please?" His sensor wings weaved back and forth behind him, erratically twitching up and down and out and in as if he couldn't decide how to hold them.

Bluestreak nodded, his smile stretching so wide that the mesh in his cheeks hurt. "Yes, Smokey, of course," he said. He wrapped his arms around Smokescreen's waist, mindful of his injuries this time, and kissed him again. "We accept your proposal. We will absolutely bond with you in trine."

Prowl stepped close to them, and they both opened their arms, pulling the white and black Praxian into their embrace. "After losing Barricade, I thought that I would always be content with just Bluestreak," Prowl said, and rested his helm against Smokescreen's shoulder. "But having you close to us... Feeling what you do for Bluestreak and... and knowing what you do for me..." Prowl hesitated, and Bluestreak could feel him casting about, trying to put his deep emotions into words.

Smokescreen kissed the tip of Prowl's chevron. "I know you struggle with words sometimes, gorgeous," he said quietly. "You don't have to elaborate if it's too hard."

Prowl shook his helm. "I need to tell you this." He thought for another moment, and Bluestreak could feel his processor turning over something as if he was working on an analysis. Finally Prowl said, "This feels **right**. This feels like something that should be." He lowered his wings and raised his helm again, looking at Bluestreak, then at Smokescreen. Now, Bluestreak sensed only happiness and contentment from him. "If that makes sense," Prowl added.

"It makes perfect sense," Smokescreen said. He kissed Prowl, then Bluestreak. "So what do you say we get this done?"


	49. ...and Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak is trined once more.

The fourth time Bluestreak was bonded, it was not in front of a commissioner or Temple priests. There would be no official agreements to sign, nor would there be any feasting. Instead, Bluestreak knelt with Prowl and Smokescreen in the middle of a makeshift meeting room, in the company of a small number of chosen witnesses. The tables and chairs had been pushed aside to make room for the tiny ceremony, and a collection of cushions and pillows were piled in the corner.

After all, there was almost nothing in the way of private space in the Autobots' base. And there was so little time for them to let their new bond settle.

As the Praxians settled to their knees, the Prime knelt beside them and rested his hand on Prowl's shoulder. "I wish I could give you more time," he said in his deep voice. "Nothing makes my spark happier than witnessing joinings such as these. There are so few of them these days, and we must take love and comfort where we can." He looked at each of the Praxians, one at a time. "But you will only have a day, two at most, before we need all three of you back on duty." Removing his hand from Prowl, he added, "We must be ready to leave before the Decepticons find us."

"We are aware of the urgency, Prime," Prowl said. His expression and tone were solemn, but the eager quiver of his sensor wings gave him away to anyone who knew how to read him. And over the bond, Bluestreak could feel Prowl's excitement. "But thank you for allowing us this time to complete our trine." He gestured at Bluestreak and Smokescreen, and added, "I think I speak for all three of us when I say that this means a lot to us."

Even though Prowl worked directly with the Prime on a regular basis, Bluestreak still felt awed when in his presence. The Prime exuded an otherworldly air that always made Bluestreak feel like he could see right into Bluestreak's spark. But when he spoke, the Prime's kindness and thoughtfulness seemed to bring him back into the world Bluestreak lived in.

Bluestreak summoned up his courage (pulling on Prowl for confidence through the bond) and looked up at the Prime. "I've got Hound, Trailbreaker and Bumblebee looking after the outfitting while I'm... uh, indisposed," he said. "Prowl's handed off his tactical work to Flak, and Smokescreen is getting Rung to look after his patients who've made it here, and-"

The Prime's hand moved to Bluestreak's shoulder, settling there with a weight that seemed to press all of the anxiety out of Bluestreak. "I'm sure everything will be fine, Bluestreak," the Prime said. Then, standing up, he took a step backwards and addressed everyone in the room. "We are here today to witness the joining of three sparks into one. Moments like these have become all too rare in the past century as we focused on fighting for freedom and for justice. Seeing that love can still take root when there is so much anger and strife gives me hope." He hesitated, then looked around the small room at the other mechs who were standing as witnesses. "In Rodion, it was traditional to give the option for anyone present to speak up as to why two or more sparks should not be joined. Are there any such objections today?"

Bluestreak felt Hound's hand fall on his shoulder, and he looked up at his friend. "No objection here, Prime," Hound said, and then grinned down at Bluestreak.

Behind Prowl, Ironhide clamped his large hand on Prowl's shoulder. "None here, either, Prime," Ironhide drawled. He smiled at Prowl and gave him a saucy wink. "Maybe now this one can go a whole day without mentioning that new Tactical analyst that he's had his optic on."

Prowl ducked his helm a bit, and his smile grew. Over the bond, Prowl's anticipation swelled even greater.

"No objections here, either." Rung was short enough that he didn't have to reach down much to place his hand on Smokescreen's shoulder. "I know that this is something that Smokescreen has been thinking a lot about."

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen in surprise. He wondered how long Smokescreen had been considering a bond between them, and if he'd spoken to Rung about it.

The Prime's deep voice interrupted Bluestreak's thoughts. "Then, I see no reason why we can't begin right away." He gestured at them. "You may exchange your cables and run the bonding sequence when you're ready."

Bluestreak and Prowl exchanged their cables first, slotting them into their medical ports. Bluestreak's system acknowledged his bond mate's presence, and he sensed Prowl's doing the same. Then, Bluestreak accepted Smokescreen's cable, and plugged it in beside Prowl's.

Bluestreak initiated the bonding sequence and waited for Smokescreen to trigger his. Smokescreen paused for a moment, his optics downcast, before reaching out to take Prowl's and Bluestreak's hands in his. He flashed them both a smile and nodded. "Well, here we go," he said, and Bluestreak received the notification that Smokescreen had initiated the bonding sequence on his side of the connection.

Prowl had been a familiar constant in Bluestreak's spark for almost two centuries. His loyalty and focused calm had been an anchor for Bluestreak through all they'd experienced together. Bluestreak leaned into Prowl's presence, and felt Prowl lean into his, and they were both strengthened just by each other's proximity.

Then, for the first time since their bonds with Barricade were broken, there was a third presence with them.

Smokescreen's presence was analytical and caring, complemented by an easygoing nature and a pragmatic slant to how he saw the world. Bluestreak got the impression of a bright spark that had been dimmed slightly by the experiences it had had, but one that still shone brightly even through the shadows that covered it.

From Smokescreen, Bluestreak sensed a burst of joy, and a cascade of delight rippled through the bond. "It's been so long," Smokescreen said, and Bluestreak felt Smokescreen gingerly reach out to him and Prowl with his spark. Smokescreen's optics dimmed as he felt Bluestreak and Prowl reach back to him, wrapping him up in their sparks and in their arms. "It's been so, so long..."

And that's when Bluestreak felt the holes in Smokescreen's spark.

Smokescreen and Prowl were both bright presences in Bluestreak's spark, swirling around him like stars in the dark. But hovering behind Smokescreen were two places of pain, a sense of something missing. Instinctively, Bluestreak reached out towards Smokescreen, seeking to hold him apart from those gaping holes, but he reeled back at the all-too-familiar sense of pain when he brushed against those gaps...

Gaps that felt just like the hole where Barricade had been in **his** spark.

Skirting around the empty place in his spark where Barricade used to be had become almost second nature to Bluestreak. Over time, the edges had softened, and it had gradually become easier to approach that place without being overwhelmed by sorrow. Memories of Barricade had lost the deep upwelling of sparkache that used to accompany them. Now, Bluestreak could remember the good times with his lost bond mate without being swamped with misery: memories of them laughing together, holding each other, enjoying each other.

The contours of these new holes, holes that were tied intrinsically to Smokescreen, were unfamiliar. Bluestreak couldn't tell where it was safe to step, or what thoughts might cause a burst of grief.

Bluestreak could also tell that Smokescreen was feeling the same thing from him and Prowl. He felt Smokescreen gingerly exploring that partially healed edge, the one that Bluestreak had grown used to avoiding, and he (or was it Smokescreen?) whimpered when Smokescreen ventured a bit too close, brushing against that painful periphery of where Barricade used to reside.

But even through the grief, all three of their sparks rejoiced at once again being part of a trine.

"Are the three of you going to be all right?" Bluestreak reset his optics – when had they gone dark? – to see Rung leaning over Smokescreen. "I've read that second bondings after a break can be intense." Rung smiled. "I imagine it's even more intense for a trine."

"Intense. Yeah, that's definitely a word for it," Smokescreen said. He pulled a noisy vent, letting it out slowly. Bluestreak could feel Smokescreen's processor running through a ritual of some kind, calming him and allowing him to think clearly. He could also feel a dull ache from Smokescreen's wrenched wing, and the sharper sting from his freshly-repaired shoulder. "But I'm sure that the three of us can get through it together." Over the bond, Smokescreen's confidence in Bluestreak and Prowl was adamant, and Bluestreak felt a fresh blush of adoration for his new mate, one that he felt echoed by Prowl.

"It's just so much," Prowl gasped, struggling to remove the data cables from his medical port. Bluestreak could sense that Prowl's optics were blurred with coolant, and his processor was reeling with the addition of a third spark to his own again. After finally fumbling their cords free of his neck, Prowl grabbed at his trine mates' hands. "But Smokescreen's right. We can manage this."

The next few minutes passed in a blur, as the Prime and their witnesses ensured that they'd each safely disconnected their cables, and they clumsily pulled the cushions and pillows out onto the floor of the meeting room. There was the familiar urge to stay in physical contact each other, to acquaint and reacquaint themselves with their frames and how to touch and how to be touched. But even more pressing was the almost compulsive urge to explore the edges of those missing parts of one another.

It made sense. In order to avoid something that caused pain, you needed to know where it was so that you did not blunder into it.

As they twined their frames together, seeking to make their three separate bodies one entity, even if just for the night, the shapes of those holes in Smokescreen's spark became more defined. As they came into more clear focus, Bluestreak realized he was able to recognize them from the stories that Smokescreen had told about his bond mates.

The first echo, impulsive and cocky, had a spark of gold, carefully hidden from his rough coworkers. He had a ribald sense of humour, one not fit for polite company, but he treated his bond mates with a deep love and respect. He could lose himself in his work for hours, and he felt a huge sense of satisfaction after finishing a big project, whether that was perfecting a drink, rebuilding a transport engine, or wiring a cabinet for lighting to best display a jungle of tiny crystals.

That echo was Trident.

Which meant that the quieter echo, the thoughtful and studious one, was Halfsteel. He delighted in subtle wordplay, always seeking to sneak a terrible pun past his bond mates when they least expected it. He had a way with words, thinking through his thoughts carefully before speaking. He could settle in with something to read and happily spend the day doing nothing but. However, if one of his bond mates needed anything, he would immediately drop everything for them.

Seeing the shadows of those missing bond mates on Smokescreen's spark gave Bluestreak a better understanding of who they were, and of who Smokescreen was. And he knew that as he and Prowl explored the depths of Smokescreen's spark, Smokescreen was doing the same to theirs, seeing and feeling and experiencing how they saw Barricade: the mischievous rogue, brash in his actions but devoted to his bond mates, whose assumptions and blind convictions had ultimately led him down a dark path and away from his trine.

The ventilation in the improvised meeting room was poor, and the floor was hard, even with the cushions. By the time the three of them were able to rest for a few minutes, the air in the room was thick with ozone, and Bluestreak knew he was going to feel very stiff later. But they still lay twisted together, seeking to stay in as much contact as possible, with Smokescreen pressed between Bluestreak and Prowl.

Bluestreak felt Prowl touch that familiar raw boundary where Barricade used to be, and all three of them flinched back. Prowl whimpered. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I thought it might be better, I guess."

Smokescreen's optics opened, and he smiled at Prowl. He radiated a hazy contentment, lit through with acceptance. "You know what they say," Smokescreen said. "Nothing can heal a broken bond, but time can make the pain easier to bear." He turned and brushed his helm vent against Bluestreak's hood. "New bonds don't replace the old ones. They form alongside the ones you already have."

"We know," Bluestreak said. He slid his hand across Smokescreen's chest and looped his fingers through Prowl's. "And I think that's a good thing. I don't think I'd want you taking up the same space as Cade did."

"And no matter how much it still hurts, I wouldn't want to lose what I had with Steel and Trident to you two." Smokescreen snuggled down into Prowl's embrace as Bluestreak's hand wandered down to his hip again. "You're both something beautiful and new to me, but you aren't anything that will ever replace them."

"We understand," Prowl said. He shuddered as Bluestreak's hand closed around Smokescreen's spike once more, and he looked down at Smokescreen with icy blue optics. "I am surprised at how strong the bonding compulsion is, though. You'd think with all three of us having already been bonded..."

Bluestreak grinned, watching Prowl's reaction to the sensation of Bluestreak's hand moving on Smokescreen's spike. "New bond, Prowl. New connection. New sensations." He twisted his hand as he slid it up Smokescreen's spike, then palmed it slowly back down again, pausing to enjoy the twin moans his actions caused in both of his bond mates, and feeling the resonances of their pleasure sing through the bond to him again. He shivered. "Oh, Primus, I missed this so much."

Bluestreak didn't even have to explain what it was that he'd been missing; his bond mates already knew.

* * *

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker arrived last night. Sounds like they're both in good repair, even though they had to fight their way out of the city. They definitely came out better than the Decepticons they ran into," Prowl said.

"That's great news!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "I was worried about them."

"I know you were, which is why I wanted to tell you. I got the message while we were... busy."

"Prowl, are you **seriously** working right now?" Smokescreen asked, sliding his hand up Prowl's arm. "We're still off duty."

"I'm just responding to some of my messages." Prowl's reply sounded slightly petulant. "The more I do now, the fewer I have to deal when I get back to work."

From Smokescreen's other side, Bluestreak sat up a bit and pressed himself more firmly into his new bond mate's side. "Hey, listen to this. Commander Springer messaged me a little while ago about our unit. It's being disbanded. It sounds like some of them are staying behind on Cybertron when we all leave."

Even though he wasn't looking at Smokescreen, Bluestreak could feel him roll his optics. "Oh, come on. You're working, too?"

"Didn't I warn you that Prowl is going to rub off on you?" When Smokescreen's engine grumbled, Bluestreak laughed. "I'm not working, I'm just checking my messages. Trust me, you still have my full attention," Bluestreak said as he worked his fingers into the seam in Smokescreen's hip, smiling when he heard the whine from Smokescreen's engine, and sensed the shiver of pleasure run through Smokescreen's frame and then their new bond.

"Whatever you say, beautiful," Smokescreen said, his voice sounding a bit underpowered as Bluestreak ran the tip of his finger down a cable under his plating. "Just keep doing that."

"Anyway, Springer said that I'm being released from the unit." Bluestreak let his dismay trickle through the bond, and was immediately soothed by both of his bond mates. "I'm gonna miss him. He was a great commander."

"Did he say why they're staying behind?" Smokescreen asked. His curiosity felt smooth, less sharp than when Prowl wanted to know something.

"General Ultra Magnus will be running an operation with Springer, Impactor, and a few others, just before we leave in order to create as big of a distraction as they can," Prowl said. His attention had switched away from his comm messages and back to Smokescreen. He half-turned to slide his hand down Smokescreen's hood as he added, "The goal is to decrease the risk of the Decepticons following us. Or 'wreck' it, as Springer has been saying." Prowl snorted. "The other command staff picked up on that and started calling them 'The Wreckers.'"

"Do you think they'll be successful?" Smokescreen asked, shuddering as Prowl's finger slipped under his front bumper.

"No," Prowl said flatly, and Bluestreak sensed Prowl's pessimism. "I advised them of the odds of success for their operation. They are very low. But we don't really have any other options right now." He let his helm fall onto Smokescreen's shoulder as he looked out at the hangar. "We need to do everything we can to ensure these ships get away safely."

Bluestreak also turned to look out at the vast space in front of them. The meeting room they had been holed up in overnight was needed for vital planning sessions, so the three of them had vacated it, even though their bonding compulsions were still running strong. With nowhere else private to go, they found a secluded nook, halfway up to the roof of the main hangar where the three ships were waiting. Hardly anyone ever came up there, and they were hidden from any vantage point lower down. Really, the only way they would be seen was if someone was on the bridges of any of the ships.

...which there might be. But at this point, Bluestreak was willing to take that risk. He (and Prowl, and Smokescreen) still felt the overwhelming urge to feel and touch and let their bond settle before they all had to be back at work tomorrow.

Tomorrow would come soon enough. For now, they took advantage of every moment they had together.

"So how did they pick who stayed for this new unit?" Bluestreak asked. He pulled the toy tankformer out of his subspace and rested it on his knee. If he closed one optic, it looked like the tank's barrel was pointed directly at the nosecone of the Ark 3.

"General Ultra Magnus said they are only accepting non-bonded mechs," Prowl replied. "That's one of the reasons you weren't requested for it." His hand had not stopped moving on Smokescreen's bumper, as if he was mapping out every curve and crevice. A tang of sadness flickered over their connection. "It's expected that the new unit will have a very high mortality rate."

"Do twin bonds count?" Bluestreak asked, picturing Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He selfishly hoped that his friends would be coming with them on their journey off Cybertron.

Prowl picked up on Bluestreak's emotions, and he sent across a stroke of comfort. "No. But Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be coming with us." He lifted his helm and gave Bluestreak a smile. "I made sure of that."

Smiling happily, Bluestreak pressed his lips against Smokescreen's collar fairing. "Good," he said.

Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side, knocking his chevron against Bluestreak's with a metallic sound that sent a quiver through all three of them. "You're making Prowl think too hard," Smokescreen said, his tone coloured with complaint. "I can **feel** him thinking, and I can almost see where his thoughts are. It's so weird."

"It's his tactical upgrades," Bluestreak said. "I mean, we could always feel when he was considering something, just like I could tell when Cade was thinking about something. After he got his processor mods, though, it was a lot more pronounced." Bluestreak shrugged and 'drove' the toy tankformer from his right knee to his left. "But he was always the mind in our trine, so it fit, I guess."

There was a sudden burst of affectionate exasperation from Prowl. "Oh, not this again," Prowl muttered.

"Trine roles?" Smokescreen asked. When Prowl nodded, Smokescreen laughed. "Let me guess, you were the mind, and Bluestreak was the spark."

"No, I'm the body," Bluestreak said. "We decided Cade was the spark in our trine." He mouthed the tip of Smokescreen's chevron and chuckled when his engine revved. "So I guess that would make you the spark in ours."

"No, no, no," Smokescreen said, waggling a finger. "Trident was our spark. Halfsteel was the mind. I was the body. How can I be the body now?"

"Yes, we can't **possibly** have two 'bodies' in this fictional arrangement of roles rooted in superstition and mysticism," Prowl said. Bluestreak could **feel** him roll his optics.

Smokescreen slid both of his arms out, looping them around his new bond mates' waists, and pulled them in tight against his frame. "I don't know," he said, his engine purring beneath his words. "I'm ok having these two bodies right here with me."

That got a laugh out of Prowl.

"So if I'm a body, and you're a body... Does that mean our trine doesn't have a spark now?" Bluestreak asked. He knew the trine roles were superstition, just like Prowl said, but it had been one of the silly beliefs he'd always grown up thinking about. Abandoning the idea felt a little wrong.

Smokescreen pulled his arm free of Bluestreak's waist and tipped Bluestreak's face towards him with a single finger laid against his cheek. He kissed him, letting his lips linger on Bluestreak's as he looked into his optics. "Nothing says you can't fill more than one role, beautiful," Smokescreen said quietly. He kissed Bluestreak again, then added, "You can be different things to different people, in different situations. Just like you're a skilled Artillery mech one minute and a handsome lover the next."

The exasperation from Prowl had faded, and now Bluestreak felt a grudging agreement from him. "That makes a lot more sense to me than those silly static roles."

Smokescreen reached into his subspace and pulled out his one-shanix chip, flipping it between his fingers as he spoke. "Every relationship is different. I think those roles were originally developed as a simple way to explain how different personalities interact, but it was just taken a bit too far and become... I don't know, codified." He thought for a moment. "For example, Bluestreak had one sort of relationship with Barricade." He pointed at the tankformer on Bluestreak's knee, and then held up the chip between his fingers. "I had a different relationship with Halfsteel. And Bluestreak and I relate to each other in a specific way, just like you and I have our own way of relating, Prowl." Then Smokescreen placed the chip on the back of the tankformer where it might carry some light cargo. "And if Halfsteel had ever met Barricade, they'd have their own way of interacting that would be linked but independent of me and Bluestreak." He laughed. "Hey, that toy holds that chip perfectly."

"It does," Bluestreak said, sliding the tankformer back and forth across his knees. Then he placed it on Smokescreen's chest, running it across his bumper. Bluestreak could feel an echo from Smokescreen of the sensation, and he shivered.

Smokescreen took the toy and drove it from his chest onto Prowl's, laughing at the cough that Prowl's engine made when the tankformer's treads skimmed the edge of his headlight. "And even between the two of you, I can feel how you both miss Barricade in different ways," Smokescreen said, gently brushing the edge of that place in their sparks where the dark mech used to be.

Prowl took the tankformer from Smokescreen and held it up to his optics. "That I know," he said. "I can feel it myself." He turned the toy back and forth, examining it from all angles. "I know Bluestreak misses Barricade for who he was, and I can tell he still misses him, deeply. But I mostly miss Barricade because of what he did for Bluestreak." Prowl frowned, then handed the toy back to Smokescreen. "Beyond that, I'm still too upset at him to miss him as deeply as Bluestreak does."

"And that's fair," Bluestreak said, sending Prowl a stroke of love and understanding through the bond.

"Anyway," Smokescreen said, setting the tankformer on his own knee. "I could go on and on about relationships and the ways different people can interact and relate to one another, but I don't want to bore you.

"No, that's fine! It's interesting," Bluestreak said. "I've never really thought about how I relate to mechs that way before. I always think I'm just me, all the time."

"You **are** you," Smokescreen said. He plucked the chip from the tankformer's cargo area and slipped it back into his subspace, then gave the toy back to Bluestreak. "But every relationship you have is unique. So saying you'll **always** be the steady one in a bond, or **always** be the thoughtful one..." Smokescreen nudged Prowl gently. "That just isn't true." He leaned against Bluestreak and kissed his cheek. "Sometimes even the strong one in a relationship just needs to be held and loved."

The three of them sat silently for several minutes, simply soaking in the feeling of being near one another. Prowl gently ran his fingers up and down Smokescreen's upper leg, creating tiny crackles of charge that pinged across their bond, while Bluestreak pressed himself into Smokescreen's other side and rested his helm on his shoulder. Bluestreak could feel Prowl turning something over in his mind, while Smokescreen seemed to be focused on falling into the bond as deeply as he could. Bluestreak thought back to the very first time he'd been bonded, to Barricade, and how those sensations were similar but still so different from when they bonded with Prowl, and then again when Bluestreak and Prowl were rebonded.

A random thought flickered across Bluestreak's processor. "Hey, Smokey," Bluestreak said. When Smokescreen grunted quietly, Bluestreak asked, "Did you ever want to be a mentor?"

Bluestreak felt a quick flare of apprehension from Prowl, who had suddenly understood why Bluestreak was asking. "It's a moot point now, and it will be for the foreseeable future," Prowl said, undercutting his words with a strange stiffness that Bluestreak could feel in his frame.

"I know, I know," Bluestreak said, sending a flash of reassurance over the bond. "But I was just wondering. You've told us a lot about your bond mates, Smokey, and... I was just curious."

Smokescreen hummed, and Bluestreak could sense him thinking. It was so different than how Prowl felt when he was deep in thought about something. Smokescreen was just as analytical as Prowl, but not nearly as regimented. Bluestreak could almost feel Smokescreen looking down dead ends and making logical leaps that Prowl would never consider making without evidence. It was more similar to how Barricade had thought about things, although Barricade never made those wild leaps like he could feel Smokescreen making.

Bluestreak was so lost in just feeling Smokescreen thinking that he had almost forgotten he'd asked him a question in the first place. So he looked up in surprise when Smokescreen finally spoke. "Yeah. We'd thought about it, but that's about it." Smokescreen shrugged. "We were going to wait until I was done with school and set up with my own practice before we applied. There wasn't any rush. And then..." He vented as he touched those raw spots in his spark, sending a fresh trickle of pain into their connection.

"I'm sorry," Bluestreak said, apologizing for forcing Smokescreen to recollect that pain, and for bringing up a topic that he knew Prowl wasn't eager to discuss again.

Then he closed his optics as he felt both of his bond mates wrap his spark up in theirs, comforting him and holding him close.

They lay silently again, touching and holding and feeling, for some unmeasured amount of time. But after a while, they all felt that familiar surge of charge: rising slower now that the compulsion was gradually fading, but still insistent and strong. Bluestreak wasn't even aware that Smokescreen's modesty panel had slid away until he had his hand wrapped firmly around Smokescreen's firm spike, and he heard Smokescreen gasp unintelligibly.

"No one comes up here," Prowl growled, his voice low and husky as he slipped two fingers into Smokescreen's dripping valve.

"And if they do, who cares?" Bluestreak said, throwing one more glance at the bridges of the ships across from them before he shifted down to slip his mouth around Smokescreen's spike.

"I sure don't," Smokescreen said, then arched his hips upwards with a tiny cry as Bluestreak's lips closed around the head of his equipment. "But if they do... Let's give them one Pit of a show." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end... of the second-to-last act of this fic! 
> 
> The next chapter starts the final arc that will carry us to the end of this story. Thanks for sticking with me this far, and I hope to see you at the end when we all get there. 😄


	50. Welcome to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots arrive on a new planet in their search for allies.

Out of all the myriad types of planets that Bluestreak had imagined when their ship finally left Cybertron, Earth was nothing like he had pictured it would be.

To begin with, it was very wet. On Cybertron, the area around the Mithril Sea had always been a little humid, but this planet took it to the next level. Ratchet despaired that everyone would succumb to rust infections before a year was up. "Out of all the planets to choose from," Ratchet muttered quietly as he applied an improved rust-proofing agent to Bluestreak's plating, "he had to pick the one that would make us rot from the inside out."

The Science Division had presented the Prime with several candidate systems to choose from, and he had selected this one for the Autobot flagship, the _Ark 1_. It was a relatively remote system, but inhabited. Scans had shown that the native life forms had technology that was almost capable of making use of jump gates, but they had never been contacted to be introduced into the Galactic network. If the inhabitants were provided with the right technology, the Prime hoped they could be convinced to allow the Autobots to stay peacefully on their planet in exchange. That would give the Autobots the time they needed to build their defenses and regroup to prepare to retake Cybertron.

The planet turned out to be densely inhabited with small organics about the size of a Povian. The inhabitants spoke a thousand different languages, but Lieutenant Blaster quickly put together language packs for the twenty most commonly used languages for the crew to install. That was easy.

What proved to be more difficult was figuring out who was in charge of the planet. It turned out that no one polity held control over most of its non-liquid surface. This apparently wasn't that unusual for planets that hadn't been brought into the Galactic network yet, and Prowl commented that it reminded him of Cybertron's pre-contact polities. "I guess watching all of those sordid romantic histories did some good after all," Prowl said one night as the three of them were settling into their quarters for recharge. "It gave me a chance to refresh myself on Cybertron's ancient history. The Prime has appreciated the comparisons." Prowl smiled. "Even back then, there were polities that held more influence than others. We just have to find the best one or two on this planet to speak with."

After spending several months observing the planet from a distance, the Prime decided to land the ship and make contact with what they hoped was an influential body. After a few days of deliberation, the Science Division recommended landing the ship at night in a remote area. Then, as soon as they had landed, the Autobots would be able to use their bridge technology to explore the planet at ground level, assuming that they could blend in with the other mechanical vehicles the native life forms used.

...Except that plan went sideways very quickly. Within two days there were images of Autobots all over the planet's primitive datanet, and Bumblebee and Arcee had accidentally revealed their bot modes to several native organics.

It was a simple matter to scrub the images from the datanet. Erasing organic memories, however, was not something that Ratchet wanted to be involved in at all, and the Povian doctor Lurril agreed. "There **are** some ways to do it," Lurril said thoughtfully, "but if you make a mistake, you'll end up with a vegetable. That's probably not the way to win over the humans, hmm?"

The Prime quickly agreed with the diminutive doctor.

Fortunately, the handful of humans (as they called themselves) who had spotted the Autobots were sympathetic, and were willing to keep their secret, even offering to help them. The first issue that they offered to assist with was why the Autobots seemed to attract so much attention wherever they went.

"I don't get it," Sideswipe said, leaning on the table in the rec room where several Autobots were speaking with the humans. He tabbed through a datapad and flipped it around to show the humans the images. "We look almost exactly like the vehicles you have. We shouldn't be attracting that much attention!"

One of the humans put her hands on her hips as she looked at the images. "Except that the first three images are from science fiction movies. Those next two are concept cars. And that one..." Carly leaned forward to look at the image more closely. "I think that's from a video game?"

"Yeah," said Sam, looking over Carly's shoulder, then snapped his fingers. "It's from Halo 4. I **knew** I recognized Hound from someplace."

Carly nodded and looked back up at the Autobots sitting at the table around her. "So basically, you look like the weirdest, most out-there vehicles ever. Of **course** you're going to attract attention."

"And that's even before you go outside with the giant hamsters or the bugs," Sam said, and immediately received an elbow to his side from Carly. "What?" he said. "The bugs creep me out."

"They're **called** Povians and Akkiel," Carly said, and rolled her eyes. "Don't be rude."

Wheeljack tapped a stylus against his blast mask in thought. "Hoist and I were planning on making a few changes to everyone's armor to deal with the environmental conditions on your planet. We could probably work in some other cosmetic changes in the process," he said. "Can you help us pick out some vehicles that might not attract so much attention?"

Carly and Sam readily agreed, and immediately got to work helping Wheeljack identify less eye-catching vehicle modes.

It turned out that out of all of the Autobots, the Praxians needed the least amount of change to fit in. "You're already sort of swooshy like a higher-end sports car," Carly said to Bluestreak. "Just a few tweaks should make you look like something expensive, but not all that out of place on the road."

"Expensive, huh?" Smokescreen said, leaning on Bluestreak's shoulder and grinning. "I like the sound of that."

Which is how Bluestreak ended up becoming the first Autobot to have his plating modified using the new designs cooked up by Wheeljack and Hoist. It wasn't just a matter of adjusting some contours, however. All of his plating needed to be removed so that his cabling and protoform could be sprayed with a protective coating against moisture, and then his transformation sequence had to be modified to incorporate the changes to his profile.

It was similar enough to the process he'd already gone through when he signed up with the Autobots, and it only took about a day to complete the work. But Bluestreak still felt strange when he was finally released from Medical and told to return to his quarters.

"Let us know right away if something doesn't seem right," Hoist said after discharging Bluestreak. "We'll be starting on Windcharger next, but if there's something that you think we need to change we'd prefer to know sooner rather than later."

As Bluestreak made his way back through the _Ark's_ corridors to the quarters he shared with his trine, Bluestreak tried to figure out what felt so strange. Everything seemed louder, and brighter. He could sense the movement of air more readily, and he could even scent the wax of a mech who had passed through the hallway a few minutes before. Feathery shivers of charge ran through his frame with every step. It wasn't too long before Bluestreak realized that the sensors in his wing panels (which now turned into the doors for his vehicle mode) were probably tuned to be too sensitive. He would have to get Hoist to turn them down to more manageable levels.

He also felt a bit unsteady, not unlike when he'd received his adult frame upgrades, or when he'd been fitted with his heavy military-grade armor. Hoist had only been able to show him some image captures of his new frame, so Bluestreak wasn't entirely sure what he looked like now.

That was going to be his first suggestion, after getting his sensors retuned: get the Medical bay a mirror. Everyone would want to see what they looked like after the work was done on them. On the other hand, he knew that Sunstreaker would probably demand a mirror anyway, even before his refit happened.

When he got to his trine's quarters, Bluestreak palmed the door open, and vented with relief when he was greeted by the typically dim lights of the main room. The _Ark's_ crew quarters were far larger than the ones they'd had at the base in Iacon; they had separate living quarters and berthrooms, and the officer quarters even had private wash racks. It almost felt like the flat Bluestreak had shared with Barricade and Prowl in Iacon.

Bluestreak made his way straight to the full-length mirror just outside the wash rack, and adjusted the lights in the room to half brightness. He peered at his new form, turning slowly from side to side, admiring the updated contours of his shape.

His new door wings were more broad than his old sensor wings had been, and his hood was longer and a bit more angled. His headlights were larger and his collar fairing was deeper. Bluestreak turned to the side again, not sure whether he liked the changes or not.

"Well, well, well. Look at you, beautiful," said Smokescreen from behind him. Bluestreak turned around to see him leaning against the berthroom door and looking at Bluestreak with obvious interest. "If that's what I have to look forward to, I hope I get my refit soon."

"Do you like it?" Bluestreak asked, turning around to look at himself in the mirror again. He touched his front bumper, and noticed how much farther out he had to reach now than he did before the work had been done. "It feels a bit strange."

In answer, Smokescreen walked over to Bluestreak and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. Over the bond, Smokescreen's interest had become a swirl of desire. "Yeah," Smokescreen said, his voice deepening slightly as he pressed his lips against the back of Bluestreak's neck. "I like it."

Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side, allowing Smokescreen better access to his neck cables, as he continued to look at himself in the mirror. "I guess it's just different," he said. "I'll get used to it, I'm sure."

"I see they didn't repaint your stripes for you," Smokescreen said. "We'll have to fix that." He ran his hand across the back of Bluestreak's wing.

Before Bluestreak could suppress the reaction, he moaned. His door wing fluttered like mad, almost slapping Smokescreen in the shoulder. "Ah! Smokey!" Bluestreak gasped when he regained control of his vocalizer. "Careful. The sensors are tuned a bit too high. I was going to go back to Medical in a bit to have it fixed."

"Oh?" Smokescreen paused, and Bluestreak could feel him contemplating something. "Are you sure you don't want to... I don't know, make use of that sensitivity first?" he asked, mischief colouring his tone.

Bluestreak smiled and leaned back against his bond mate, already seeing where Smokescreen was going with his line of questioning. "What exactly did you have in mind?" he asked.

A few minutes later, Bluestreak was lying on his front on their berth, whining and writhing under Smokescreen's gentle handling. It wasn't just the new door wings that were over-sensitive. Other portions of his frame that hadn't previously been erogenous zones now seemed to be a conduit directly into his spark, ramping his charge up higher and higher with even the softest touches.

Smokescreen was careful, or torturous, depending on your point of view. He made sure not to over-stimulate any particular part of Bluestreak's new frame, instead backing off when Bluestreak's charge seemed to be rising a bit too high, and moving on to investigate another area. Bluestreak's door wings were all hot zones, but so was his waist, the back of his knee joints, the edges of the new plasteel that had been installed on his back as a "moon roof," and the edges of his bumpers. With each touch of Smokescreen's fingers or lips, Bluestreak's charge would rise, then frustratingly fall again when Smokescreen decided to move on to something else.

"Unnnh, Smokey, please, stop teasing," Bluestreak finally gasped out, twisting again as Smokescreen tugged at a cable just under his hip.

Even though he was face-down on the berth, Bluestreak could **feel** the smug smile on Smokescreen's lips through the bond. "Usually **I'm** the one who ends up begging," Smokescreen said, sliding his hand possessively across Bluestreak's aft and laughing as Bluestreak pushed up into the touch. "This is a nice change of pace."

"You know, I was in a meeting with the Prime and the other officers when the two of you started broadcasting your fragging over the bond." Bluestreak looked up at Prowl's voice, and saw this other bond mate standing in the doorway of the berth room, his arms crossed under his bumper and a frown on his face. Anyone who didn't have a direct line to his spark would have thought he was furious. But over the bond, Prowl was only sending a muted frustration. Bluestreak could tell by the slant of his sensor wings that all of Prowl's attention was firmly fixed on the other two Praxians in the berth. "You could at least have put up a partial block."

"Sorry, Prowl," Smokescreen said, feeling truly contrite. He pulled his hands off of Bluestreak's frame, ignoring Bluestreak's disappointed grumble. "I'm out of habit of having to do that, to be honest."

They'd only been bonded for about a decade, and most of that had been spent aboard the _Ark_. The bridge technology that the Autobots' Science Division had modified from the Decepticon plans proved to be useful, but it had its limits. Earth was remote, and it took them many, many bridges to finally make it to the quiet system. In that time, Bluestreak and his new trine had been able to become comfortable and familiar with each other. There was work to do aboard the _Ark_ , of course: maintenance and navigation and cleaning and monitoring... But they had also had a lot of free time to spend in each others' company. And they had become a bit sloppy with putting up blocks when two of them were engaged in some interfacing without the third. Besides, after Prowl had told Bluestreak about his desire to eavesdrop on his bond mates, Bluestreak and Smokescreen **might** have gotten into the habit of leaving the bond open all the time, just to tease Prowl into coming back to them overcharged.

Like today.

"Well now that I'm here, are you going to make me watch?" Prowl asked, and now Bluestreak could feel the taste of desire over the bond from Prowl. Bluestreak wondered how he must look, spread out face-down on the berth, his optics overly bright and his fans roaring louder at each touch of Smokescreen's hands. "Or is there room for me?"

"Of course there is, gorgeous." Smokescreen finally touched Bluestreak again, sliding both of his hands over his aft and down the sides of his hips. Bluestreak whimpered as Smokescreen's thumbs grazed the lips of his valve, already damp with lubricant. "I was going to use this end, but if you wanted to use his intake..." Smokescreen's words were accompanied by a questioning stroke of affection over the bond, checking with Bluestreak whether this was all right with him.

Bluestreak just whimpered as his picture of how he'd look shifted. Him on his front, Smokescreen's spike in his valve, and Prowl's spike in his mouth? Frag **yes** , it was all right with him.

Then Smokescreen laughed. Apparently the surge of lust and charge over the bond from Bluestreak was all the answer Smokescreen needed.

Bluestreak's sensors were tuned far, far too high, that was certain. Receiving a flush of charge any time that someone brushed by you in the corridor would be far too distracting. But for now, all Bluestreak could think about was how much he adored these two mechs, and how each of their touches felt as though they could set him on fire from the inside.

As Smokescreen pushed into him from behind, Bluestreak was rocked forward, and Prowl's spike slid further into his intake. He looked up at Prowl with optics blurred with coolant, and he could see the gentle smile on his bond mate's face. He could feel the ache in his jaw as he struggled to stretch his mouth wide around Prowl's thick spike, and the grip of Smokescreen's fingers on his hips when he pulled him back onto his spike. Caught between his two mates, Bluestreak surrendered himself to the soaring sensation in his lines until that moment that all three of them reached the crest at once, their sparks synching and their minds and bodies becoming one.

It felt so good, being a part of a trine again.

When Bluestreak finished his soft reboot, he found himself curled against Prowl's side, with Smokescreen pressed up against his back. Even though he felt warm and sated, a tingle of charge still flowed through his lines with every slight movement of his bond mates, and even from the drift of air currents in the room. "After I've cleaned up I'll head back down to Medical to get them to retune my sensors," Bluestreak murmured, twitching as he felt Smokescreen's hand shift against his left wing.

Prowl gently brushed his finger across Bluestreak's swollen lips, mindful of the tiny burst of charge even that small motion sent through Bluestreak. He carefully wiped up the dribble of oral lubricant and transfluid that had collected at the corner of Bluestreak's mouth. "We could all use a bit of cleaning up," Prowl said, and pulled Bluestreak against him more tightly.

Bluestreak started to let his processor drift, letting himself fall into the moment, when Smokescreen said, "Prowl, why are you still thinking so hard?" A fond exasperation came through the bond from Smokescreen. "Usually a good overload lets your processor settle for a bit."

Focusing on the bond again, Bluestreak sensed what Smokescreen had already noticed: Prowl's processor was still churning, turning something over. At Smokescreen's question, Prowl heaved a quiet vent. "I'm sorry," he said. "The meeting I was in... It was troubling."

Now Bluestreak took more notice of Prowl's emotions, which had been covered over by his arousal: a soft uneasiness and a quiet anxiety. "What's wrong?" Bluestreak asked, opening his optics and looking up at Prowl. "Have they heard from the other two ships yet?"

"No, not yet." Prowl's optics were fixed on the ceiling of their quarters. "But... Perceptor presented his findings from some readings he took after our last few bridges," Prowl said. He frowned. "He's not convinced that we weren't being followed."

Smokescreen sat up so that he could see Prowl over Bluestreak's shoulder armor. "Do you think the Decepticons followed us?" he asked, his own anxiety flashing to the forefront.

Prowl shook his helm. "That's just it. There's no evidence that they emerged in this system. But that doesn't rule out that the Decepticons didn't follow us. It's just that we didn't see them emerge from a bridge." Prowl turned his helm and looked at his bond mates. "We need to stay vigilant."

"Of course we will," Bluestreak said, trying to project as much calm as he could. "And hopefully we can get the humans on side with us."

At that, Prowl snorted. "You just reminded me why I came back to our quarters in the first place, to grab a data pad I needed. I have a meeting in a few hours with the Prime and some humans he hopes will be our allies on this planet." He glanced down at his frame and all of the scuffs and paint transfers that now decorated his thighs. "However, now I think I need a quick shower and a touchup. It would never do to meet the representatives of an alien government looking like this."

Smokescreen laughed. "I think we could all use a shower," he said, and patted Bluestreak's hip. "And then Bluestreak can get his sensors fixed."

Bluestreak smiled, pressing himself into Prowl's side before sitting up. "And after they're fixed, I'd like to have my stripes repainted," he said. "Those are something I never want to lose."


	51. We Aren't Alone Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Smokescreen discover that the Autobots are not the only Cybertronians on Earth.

As he finished ticking something off on his clipboard, the warehouse worker shook his head. "I wish there was some way for me to introduce you guys to my daughter," James said. "She's nine. She goes bananas for robots **and** cars, and I know she'd get a complete kick out of meeting you."

Smokescreen smiled at the human as he hefted another full pallet of machinery and carried it through the rear door of the warehouse. "Our leadership wants to make sure we're self-sufficient before we become common knowledge to your planet," he said. "We don't want it to look like a full-scale invasion. That's not our intention at all."

"Yeah, I get that," said James. "And I'm not about to lose my job by violating my security clearance. But I can't wait until I tell Sara that her dad worked directly with the aliens!" He smiled up at Bluestreak. "Hopefully it won't be too long before we can tell everyone."

"Hopefully!" Bluestreak exclaimed, picking up the next pallet. "Our engineers say that once we have a few more shipments of these solar-powered generators installed, we'll be able to produce enough power to keep ourselves in fuel."

The second worker, a slim man named Nick, tipped his hat up as he scratched his forehead. "I've heard the tech you're giving us just in exchange for panels and batteries is amazing stuff," he said. He grinned at James. "Just think, you might be able to tell Sara you know the aliens, and then take her on a trip to the moon!"

"That sure would be something!" James said with a laugh. "Maybe for her tenth birthday!"

Over the past year, the Autobots had successfully made allies with some of the human polities. They had also made huge strides in being able to produce their own energy, and Wheeljack was sure that within another year or so they would be able to set up a base on the far side of the planet's moon. From there, they could contact the other Autobot ships to say they'd found safe harbour, begin building up their resources, and work with the humans on bridge-capable ships. They could even contact other allies in the Galactic network to ask for assistance, and have the humans introduced into the galaxy's fold of sentient species.

Whether any of that would eventually lead to the Autobots taking back Cybertron remained to be seen. Prowl was cautiously optimistic, but he continued to emphasize that it would take some time before they could even consider such a move.

Still, it was good to have things to look forward to.

Bluestreak set his pallet down next to the ones he and Smokescreen had been stacking just inside the rear door of the warehouse, then stood up. "Wasn't Huffer supposed to be here by now?" he asked Smokescreen in English. He didn't want it to seem like he was talking behind the humans' backs.

Just then they heard a motor and the crunch of tires on the gravel in front of the warehouse, rolling around to the large side entrance. "Maybe that's him," James said. He started jogging towards the large garage doors on the side of the warehouse. "I'll tell him we're back here."

"Don't worry, I..." Bluestreak tried to send a quick ping to Huffer, but he trailed off when it was blocked. He tried to open a comm line, but wasn't able to establish a signal. "Are your comms working?" Bluestreak asked Smokescreen.

Smokescreen lifted his hand to the side of his helm, then frowned. "That's strange," he said. "It's like they're jammed."

From the large doors of the warehouse, they heard the sound of a transformation cog spinning up, followed by another, and another. "Hey!" they heard James call. "Your buddies are inside! And you all might want to get in there in case someone sees you from the road!"

Bluestreak felt a twist of unease in his spark, echoed by what he was feeling from Smokescreen. "Was Huffer supposed to come with anyone else?" he asked.

"No," Smokescreen said, and crossed the ground to the side door of the warehouse in a few strides.

"What's going on?" asked Nick, taking a few steps after Smokescreen.

"Stay here," Bluestreak said, putting a hand down to stop the human.

Smokescreen bent down to peek out the garage door on the side of the warehouse. He took one look, then reeled back out of sight. "Decepticons!" he hissed, the unease in his spark spiking into alarm.

Bluestreak froze in a half crouch. Decepticons! The Autobots had thought they had left them back on Cybertron. Even Prowl had been almost sure that they had lost the Decepticons in their flight from the planet. Blaster and Red Alert had been on almost constant alert since they landed, scanning for any sign that they'd been followed, and found nothing. After a full year they'd finally allowed themselves to relax. The Autobots and the allies they brought with them were going to start a new life in this new star system. They were going to give themselves time to repair, recharge, and regroup. They were going to figure out how to go on, unimpeded by Megatron's megalomania.

But now... The Decepticons had found them.

Bluestreak crouched even lower as they heard an unfamiliar voice speaking in Cybertronian. "Check those containers first, then we'll look inside the building."

Then came a crunching sound, of metal being torn asunder, followed by James's indignant shout. "Hey! Now, stop that! That's not yours! I said your stuff is out back!"

A second voice speaking Cybertronian said, "What's this organic saying?"

The first voice said, "No idea. His accent doesn't match my language pack. But I don't really care. Just shut him up."

Bluestreak didn't remember even making a conscious decision. As soon as he heard the unmistakable sound of a blaster warming up, he sprinted towards the door of the warehouse. Drawing his sidearm, Bluestreak fanned his wings and did a quick scan of what was on the other side of the warehouse's thin metal walls.

Five Cybertronians were arranged in the yard, one of them much larger than the other four. Three were looking away from the warehouse, while two of them – including the largest one – were turned towards the human.

Bluestreak dove and slid through the doorway pedes first, his arm already swinging up to aim at the closest mech. He fired as soon as he was clear of the doorway.

His shot hit the mech closest to James, a direct hit to his lower face. As the human squawked and ran back towards the warehouse, the mech reeled backwards and stumbled into the larger one, who had been standing just a few meters away.

"Autobots!"

The next few seconds were a confusion of shouts and blaster fire. The Decepticons, obviously not expecting any resistance, scrambled for cover as Bluestreak fired at another mech and then ducked behind a shipping container. Across from him, Smokescreen had also emerged from the warehouse to provide cover fire while Bluestreak found a safe place to hide.

After laying down a barrage of fire, Smokescreen knelt behind his own stack of shipping containers. Bluestreak followed his gaze to the door of the warehouse. "Call for help!" Smokescreen hissed at James, who was still peeking around the edge of the door. "We need backup!"

James vanished into the warehouse, and Bluestreak could hear him yelling something at Nick. A moment later, both his and Smokescreen's hiding places were spattered with blaster fire again, and Bluestreak ducked low.

Bluestreak had never fought alongside Smokescreen, and their comms were jammed. Neither of them was armed appropriately for this, since they had not expected to have to engage in battle while doing a supply run on a friendly planet. All they were equipped with were small side sidearms. But they did have one advantage available to them: their bond.

He could feel Smokescreen's battle readiness surging, tinged with a hint of fear. And further away, Prowl was frantically prodding at the bond. Bluestreak realized Prowl had sensed their surprise and panic, and was trying to raise them on comms – only to receive the garbled notification of a jammed connection in response.

Gathering all of his own focus and fright, Bluestreak balled up his emotions and sent them through the bond to Prowl. After a moment, he felt Smokescreen do the same. Without the benefit of words, Bluestreak and Smokescreen poured everything they were feeling into the bond.

_We need help. We are in trouble. We love you. Send help._

An instant later, the anxiety he had been sensing from Prowl changed abruptly to resolve and single-mindedness. Prowl knew his bond mates were in trouble. He knew where they had been sent. Prowl would send them help.

_I understand. I love you. Hold on._

All they had to do was hold off the Decepticons until help arrived.

That was easier said than done. Bluestreak heard a shout from one of the Decepticons, and suddenly the container above him erupted into flames as it was struck by a missile. As chunks of flaming metal fell around him, Bluestreak dove across the driveway, dodging debris as he ran.

Bluestreak skidded to a stop beside Smokescreen. "Nice move, beautiful," Smokescreen said as he laid down another round of cover fire. Smokescreen glanced up at him, his expression surprisingly calm. And over the bond, Bluestreak could sense Smokescreen's steady nerves asserting themselves. "Don't suppose you've got any missiles of your own loaded?"

Bluestreak's engine snarled. He felt useless without his rifle and missiles. "No," he growled, then vented hard to calm himself. There was no time for him to run through the calming mental exercises that Smokescreen had taught him, so he focused on his ventilations instead. "Which means I'm about as useful as a stone."

"You're still a better shot than me, Blue," Smokescreen said, and handed Bluestreak his weapon. "I'm going to try to make it harder for them to get a bead on us. Once the screen is thick enough, move to another spot." He transformed, falling to four tires with a rev of his engine. "Hopefully we can keep that up long enough for help to arrive."

Bluestreak pressed his hand flat against Smokescreen's roof. "Be careful, love," he said.

Smokescreen hesitated, sending a wave of affection across the bond, and then took off with a peal of tires on cement.

Bluestreak ran to the other edge of the container and fired a few shots towards where he'd last seen at least two of the Decepticons, before ducking back behind it when his shots were answered. This area of the yard was filled with a maze of containers, and Bluestreak knew that the 'Cons were likely doing the same thing he was: trying to move from hiding spot to hiding spot so that the enemy couldn't get a bead on their location. But there were five Decepticons (or four: Bluestreak was pretty sure he'd at least disabled the one he'd shot in the face) and only two Autobots.

As Smokescreen would put it, the odds were definitely not in their favour.

After moving to a third hiding spot, Bluestreak heard the roar of an engine a few rows down from where he was hiding, followed by a shout of confusion from the 'Cons. "I can't see!" called one voice.

"What is this stuff? It's fragging up my targeting sensors!"

Bluestreak leaned out and fired a volley of shots towards where he heard the voices.

He heard Smokescreen make another pass down a different row, followed by another round of blaster fire. Suddenly, Bluestreak heard someone cry out in pain, and he froze. But over the bond, he could tell Smokescreen hadn't been hit.

"Watch where you're firing, Breakdown!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I thought I saw something!"

"Yeah, that was me, you bolthead!"

A loud voice bellowed over the other ones. "Stop fragging around and focus, you glitches!" In the distance, Bluestreak heard Smokescreen's engine change pitch as he rounded a corner, preparing for a third pass through the yard. "Drag Strip, get ready. He's coming your way."

Bluestreak's optics widened and he sent a warning to Smokescreen over the bond. Or rather, he hoped it was a warning: all he could manage was a burst of panic and a wish for caution. _Be careful, they hear you, they know where you are..._ Through the thick smoke that was now permeating the yard, Bluestreak ran towards the voices, firing his weapon at the murky shapes he could make out through the smoke, hoping to distract them from finding Smokescreen.

But he'd only gotten a few steps when he felt a jolt of pain over the bond, and heard a cry of agony.

"Smokey!" he yelled, instinctively flinching against the pain. He fell to one knee, his hand going to his chest.

"Got him!" another voice cried out, triumphant.

Bluestreak stumbled forward a few more steps and then slumped behind a container, listening and feeling. He could feel that Smokescreen had transformed; whatever they'd hit him with had triggered his transformation cog. His side hurt. His helm ached. He was awash with confusion and he was struggling to move and –

A cry escaped Bluestreak's vocalizer as the pain came again, sharper this time, more focused and then...

Smokescreen's presence in his spark faded.

Bluestreak's optics went wide as he clawed at the bond, searching for his bond mate. Alongside him, he could sense Prowl doing the same thing. They cast about through the bond, both of them rushing to the place in their sparks where Smokescreen existed.

And then Bluestreak sensed him, faintly. Bluestreak sagged in relief, covering his face with his hands. Smokescreen was alive, but offline.

Prowl sent Bluestreak a wave of respect and confidence and worry. _Stay safe. Help is coming. Hold on!_

Bluestreak gripped both of his weapons in his hands and pulled a full vent.

He just had to hold them off until help arrived.

There were voices floating through the smoke, and Bluestreak listened, trying to get a location on any of them. The description that Smokescreen had given Bluestreak of his defensive tool had been totally accurate: the magnetic particles distorted any sensor information that Bluestreak could pull from his wings. But that meant the Decepticons were just as in the dark about his location as he was to theirs.

As quietly as he could, Bluestreak crept up to the next row of containers, straining his audials. He heard a rattle of metal on the ground to his left, and a voice muttering something ahead of him. Bluestreak thought he caught the words "stasis cuffs" and "trailer," but that might have been his imagination.

He edged his way down to the next junction, and slowly snuck around the corner. Just before he entered the next row, Bluestreak froze as he clearly heard someone off to his left say, "That'll do it."

Bluestreak narrowed his optics, peering into the grey gloom, trying to see anything at all. Nothing. He turned to his right and froze as he came face to face with a yellow racer, his red optics shining through the smoke.

"Gotcha!" the yellow mech said, and jammed a rod against Bluestreak's neck.

Everything shorted out at once: his optics, his motor control, his vocalizer, his audials. As all of his sensors went dark and his HUD displayed a shutdown warning, Bluestreak felt Prowl's anxiety skyrocket again, this time shot through with terror.

_Help is coming. Help is coming! **Hold on!**_

But before Bluestreak could send anything back to Prowl, he slipped into darkness.


	52. Captured...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Smokescreen are captured by the Decepticons.

Bluestreak's processor throbbed.

As he resurfaced from stasis, his systems coming back online one at a time, Bluestreak cast about, trying to remember what had happened. Bit and pieces of images and sounds slowly began ordering themselves into something coherent, until they all snapped together into one overriding thought.

_Decepticons!_

In a panic, Bluestreak immediately reached out, feeling for his bond mates. Smokescreen was very nearby, somewhere off to his right. But he could also tell that Smokescreen was offline. His presence in Bluestreak's spark was slowly becoming brighter; hopefully he would be back online soon. Much, much further away, Bluestreak could sense Prowl, all purpose and order, but riddled with anxiety and dread.

As soon as he realized that Bluestreak was online, Prowl's presence encircled Bluestreak's in a distant embrace. Bluestreak let himself sink into everything that was Prowl, feeling Prowl's worry and determination and love.

His comm lines were showing as disabled, but Bluestreak could still understand Prowl's message, sent with pure emotion: _I will get you back, love. **Both** of you._

Bluestreak wadded up his trust and thrust it back through the bond to Prowl.

By now, his HUD indicated that his optics were online, but everything was still dark. Bluestreak focused on his frame again, and found that he was lying on a hard surface, his hands and pedes tied down. Some sort of coarse mesh was pulled over his helm, blocking his sight. When he tried to rock from side to side, he found that he was strapped to the surface with what felt like broad belts. And below all of the faint ambient sounds of ventilation systems and the clicks and whirs of machinery, he could hear the low thrum of large cruiser engines.

Fear crept back into Bluestreak's spark.

Just as he finished surveying his physical situation, Bluestreak heard voices, echoing slightly but getting louder as they grew closer.

"They sure did a number on Wildrider. He'll be feeling that for a while." The voice sounded smooth and confident. "But in any event, I guess the Autobots know we're here, finally!" The mech chuckled, and the cold sound sent a shiver run through Bluestreak's frame. "Good news for us! I was getting a little bored, to be honest."

"Speak for yourself, Vortex." Beneath the hood that covered his helm, Bluestreak frowned. The deep and coarse voice sounded achingly familiar, but he couldn't place it. "I was getting used to running patrols. And besides, this planet's sort of pretty."

The first voice – Vortex - scoffed at that. "I guess so, if by 'pretty' you mean filled with organics," said Vortex. "Don't tell me you're going native."

"Frag you," muttered the second voice.

"Name the time and place, and we'll make it happen!" said Vortex gleefully. Then he slyly added, "Oh, **that's** right. I forgot you don't do that."

The second mech snarled its reply. "Leave it, Vortex!"

The two mechs had entered the room, and Bluestreak tried to tip his door wings upwards to get a better read on them. But he'd been tied down too firmly, so his wings simply quivered, rattling against the surface of the slab.

"Ah, what a surprise for you, Barry!" exclaimed Vortex, his voice sounding oily smooth. "A pair of Praxies! Motormaster didn't say anything about that!"

"No, he didn't," said the second voice, its tone suddenly flat. Then Bluestreak felt a hand on his chest, and the hood was pulled off of his helm.

Bluestreak squinted against the sudden bright light, and immediately looked to his right, towards Smokescreen. His bond mate was laying on a flat slab, strapped down in the same way Bluestreak was. His hands and pedes were encased in cuffs attached to the surface, and a rough-looking mesh sack was pulled over his helm. Over the bond, Bluestreak could sense that Smokescreen was almost back online, his processor rebooting muzzily in the same state Bluestreak's had.

Standing over Smokescreen was a rotary with a red visor and a facemask. He pulled the hood off of Smokescreen's helm and leered at the other Praxian. "You Praxies aren't so bad on the optics, you know," the rotary purred smoothly, tipping Smokescreen's face towards him for a better look. Bluestreak recognized the rotary as the first voice he'd heard. "But I do prefer this one's colours. So bright and cheerful! That other one's so drab."

"You..."

Bluestreak turned his helm back to the left to look at the second mech in the room, and his spark stopped turning for a timeless instant.

Standing over him was another Praxian. He had black plating, and broad shoulders with wheels set on top. His golden face was framed by a thick chinstrap, and his helm was crowned by a sharp, purple chevron. His gorgeous scarlet optics were opened wide as he stared down at Bluestreak. In his hands, he held the toy tankformer that Bluestreak had carried in his subspace for over a century, his fingers curled around it almost reverently.

"Cade?" Bluestreak said, almost soundlessly.

At the whispered sound of his name, the second mech's optics widened even more, and Bluestreak knew. Oh, he looked different than he had the last time Bluestreak had laid optics on him. His stance was warier, and the right side of his golden face was marred by a thickened scar. His frame had been altered, much the way that Bluestreak's had been, with heavier armor and broader door wings and a longer hood with a crash bar making up his chest. His fingers had been tipped with sharp talons, and the glint of fangs showed in his mouth when he opened it.

But it was Barricade.

"Do you know him?" asked Vortex. "It sounded like he said your name."

Barricade stared at Bluestreak for a moment longer before shrugging. "I'm not sure. I think we might have gone to school together or something." Barricade sneered down at Bluestreak. "Did we, Autobot?" he asked, lifting a lip to clearly display a fang.

His optics were cold, and his words were spoken with a dismissive tone. He sounded different, too, not like the Barricade that Bluestreak used to know. Barricade's deep, rich baritone was now fractured, sounding like his vocalizer had been run through a shredder and then patched together poorly.

But his fingers were still wrapped around the tankformer as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

"We... we did," Bluestreak said.

"What about this one?" Vortex asked, giving Smokescreen a nudge. Smokescreen groaned at the slight movement, and Bluestreak could feel a persistent ache running through Smokescreen's frame. Or maybe it was his own frame that was aching; it was so hard to tell with his processor still confused by its reboot.

Barricade shook his helm. "Nah. I don't know that one." He hesitated for a moment, then set the tankformer down on the table next to the slab as he continued to stare down at Bluestreak.

_Barricade!_

Over the bond, Prowl sent a flurry of questioning pulses to Bluestreak in response to the flare of shock he'd felt from Bluestreak. But all Bluestreak could do was stare up at Barricade in disbelief.

It was like seeing a ghost.

At a sound to his right, Bluestreak turned to look at Smokescreen, who was still struggling to finish rebooting. Looking at his bond mate was easier than looking at Barricade.

Vortex was pawing through some items on the table next to Smokescreen's slab. "Hey, he's got a shanix chip," he said. Vortex held up the shanix chip that Smokescreen always carried. "One shanix. Haven't seen one of these in ages." He peered down at Smokescreen, who was blinking up at the rotary in confusion. "Do the Autobots still use money?" Vortex asked. He held the chip up to Smokescreen's optics, which flickered as he slowly clawed his way back to full consciousness. "Hey there, pretty, what's the shanix for?" he asked. He laughed as one of Smokescreen's restrained arms twitched as if to grab the chip. "I know a mech named Swindle who'd love to have this."

"Huh," Bluestreak said, protectively trying to draw the rotary's attention away from Smokescreen. "He owes me a few shanix but said he didn't have any! Maybe you could give it to me, and I'll call it even with him."

"Ah, I can't do that without confirming his side of the story, now, can I?" Vortex said, flashing his visor from left to right in a wink. He set the chip back on the table and picked up a shock prod. "But let's ask him now. Come on, Autobot, wake up!" he exclaimed, and then jammed the prod into Smokescreen's side.

Smokescreen screamed in pain, his spark's presence shifting from murky dimness to brilliantly online. At the same time, the sharp jolt from the prod rocketed across the bond like a missile, and Bluestreak arched sideways in his bonds, trying to move from the pain in Smokescreen's side. He might have cried out, but Bluestreak wasn't sure.

"Well, well, well," Vortex said, delight in his voice. "It looks like we've got a bonded pair!" He jammed the prod into Smokescreen's shoulder, and laughed when both Praxians cried out in agony again.

As the pain subsided, Bluestreak flung as much reassurance to Smokescreen as he could. Smokescreen was confused, barely even online, but Bluestreak could feel him clinging to what Bluestreak was sending him: Hope. Love. Support. _We'll get through this. Just **hang on**._

Bluestreak felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at Barricade. "Are you bonded to him?" Barricade asked. His door wings were held out stiffly behind him, and his optics bored into Bluestreak's.

Bluestreak nodded once. "Yeah," he managed to say. If he hadn't been staring directly at Barricade, he might have missed the subtle flinch downwards of his wings.

"Excellent," said Vortex. "That's **extremely** useful." He raised the shock prod again. "Guess we should get started, then! It's been ages since I've had a bonded pair to work on."

"Wait!" Barricade's command was sharp. When Vortex paused, Barricade's wings went back up. "You heard what Lord Megatron said. He wants detailed tactical information, as much as we can get. A forced download is the better way to get those kind of specifics." He pointed at Smokescreen. "Put him back into stasis, and let me do my work first."

Vortex shrugged irritably and spun the prod in his fingers. "Why? You can do it your way, and I'll do it mine." He jammed the prod into Smokescreen's side again, eliciting another shock of pain in both Autobots. "It's been **so long** since I've been able to have this kind of fun."

"No, you glitch!" Barricade made a sharp gesture with his hand. "I don't want his pain bleeding over their bond into my connection!" He marched around the slab and grabbed the shock prod out of Vortex's hands. "Not everyone's into pain like you are."

Vortex scoffed, but lifted his hands in the air. "Oh, all right," he said. "You do your thing. I can play with them later." Vortex leered down at Smokescreen again and patted his chest with one hand as he drew out his data cable with the other. "And when I do, I'll start with you, pretty thing," he said, and slotted his cable into Smokescreen's medical port.

Over the bond, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen tense. And though his words were distorted by feedback, Smokescreen managed choke out, "Frag off, Con."

Bluestreak rocked futilely in his bindings, his hands clenching into fists. "Leave him alone!" Bluestreak growled.

"He's just putting him into stasis," Barricade said, placing a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder again. When Bluestreak looked up at him, Barricade pulled his hand back. "He'll be fine."

On the other slab, though, Bluestreak could feel Smokescreen fighting Vortex's intrusion, and the rotary made a sound of delight. "You've got Special Ops firewalls," he said, his voice almost a purr. "Oh, you **are** going to be fun, aren't you?"

A moment later, Smokescreen's presence in Bluestreak's spark faded abruptly as his medical overrides were hacked and his processor slipped back into stasis. His frame relaxed on the slab and optics went dark once more. Bluestreak could feel Prowl frantically throwing himself into the bond, trying to sense what had happened to Smokescreen, so he sent Prowl a burst of reassurance. _He's all right. He's fine... For now._

That seemed to calm Prowl enough for him to back off, hopefully to focus on whatever plans the Autobots were making to rescue them.

...if they even knew where they were.

Vortex pulled his cables free of Smokescreen and looked up at Barricade. "Let me know when you're done with them," he said, walking to the door. He paused in the doorway and looked at Bluestreak, his blades quivering behind him. "I can't **wait** until it's my turn."

As the door to the interrogation chamber closed, Barricade turned and looked at Bluestreak. "Time to get started," Barricade said, a smile curling onto his lips as he pulled out his data cable.

Bluestreak noticed that the smile did not reach his optics.

"Please don't do this," Bluestreak whispered, staring at Barricade. His spark crawled with horror at what was about to happen. Barricade was alive. Barricade was **alive**! But Barricade was going to torture him. Barricade was alive and was going to interrogate him and torture him.

A strange veil of unreality settled over Bluestreak. Maybe this was a dream, a horrible nightmare, and he'd wake up soon.

But the hand that Barricade placed on his shoulder felt real. And the cruel-looking smile on Barricade's lips (his kissable lips, the ones that had brought Bluestreak to the edge of ecstasy so many times) softened slightly. "I'm a Decepticon interrogator, Autobot," Barricade said. His fingers pushed back the cover of Bluestreak's data port. "It's my function. And I am **very** good at it."

Bluestreak shuddered.

As soon as Barricade's cable slotted into Bluestreak's data port, he could feel Barricade slicing through every firewall and barrier that his processor had erected when it sensed the unwanted intrusion. Every Autobot had defensive firewalls installed as part of Basic training, but everyone knew that a trained interrogator could make short work of anything placed in their way. Only mechs in Special Operations had more robust firewalls installed, mostly because they made it more difficult to receive and transmit data, something that most Artillery and Infantry mechs did on a regular basis. But even Spec Ops firewalls – like the ones Smokescreen had – could be hacked, given enough time and the right tools.

Bluestreak stared up at Barricade as he felt each of his firewalls crumble. Barricade's face was almost expressionless, but his optics shifted back and forth minutely, as if examining Bluestreak's face in detail. Bluestreak focused on the scar on Barricade's cheek. He wondered where he had gotten the scar, or why it had been welded so poorly. He wondered why Barricade had replaced his fingertips with talons, and how long ago he'd had his dentae sharpened. He wondered what Barricade had experienced since the last time he'd seen him, in their flat in Iacon, the night the Senate was attacked. He wondered what Barricade had done since the last time he'd heard him, right before the bombs started falling on Praxus.

A million questions ran through Bluestreak's mind as he felt Barricade hack into it.

When his last barrier fell, Bluestreak tensed, expecting the rush of pain of a forced download. He'd heard descriptions of the sensation from others who'd experienced it: the feeling of someone riffling through your memories, and a pain that intensified the more you tried to resist. If you let them download whatever they wanted, you escaped with the most painful processor ache you'd ever had in your life. If you fought them hard enough, you'd probably suffer some processor damage as they clawed their way to the files they wanted.

Either way, the victim didn't win. And to suffer like that at Barricade's hands...

Bluestreak closed his optics, not wanting to see Barricade's face when he started ripping information from his mind.

But the pain didn't come. Instead, he felt Barricade moving through his mind carefully, picking his way through files but not opening any of them. It was as if Barricade was moving through a shop of fragile glass items, not wanting to disturb anything for fear of breaking something.

Then, Barricade's voice appeared in his processor. Bluestreak's optics flew open. Barricade's lips didn't move, but the words were in Barricade's distinct voice: the deep, sonorous voice he remembered from when they met, not the coarse parody of it that he spoke in now.

[[ _I'm sorry, Blue. I have to make you scream. I have to make this look real. Soundwave watches everything._ ]] Barricade's optics darted all over Bluestreak's face as his voice filled his processor. [[ _I promise I won't hurt you, but... I have to do this. I am so sorry._ ]] There were only words, but somehow they carried a huge weight of regret and sorrow.

Out loud, Barricade spoke in his rough voice, growling out the words with the same cruel smile on his lips. "You know how this works, right? I ask for information, and you give it. And if you don't give it, it's going to hurt. Like this."

Suddenly, Bluestreak felt something ( _Barricade!_ ) grasp at his motor controls, winding through them like hexvines through cracked steelcrete. With a sudden surge, Bluestreak felt his cables tense and his back arch upwards as if in pain. A scream was torn from his vocalizer.

But the scream wasn't real. Bluestreak had a strange sensation of being used like a drone, of being commanded to perform an action, and his frame just did it, without his input. It was like he was a puppet.

But Barricade had told the truth. There was no pain, only the odd sense of being manipulated. In a moment the sensation faded, and Bluestreak sagged back onto the slab once more. He reeled, trying to find his equilibrium again as his frame was returned to his control. _That was slagging creepy_ , Bluestreak thought.

[[ _I'm sorry. I **know** this is creepy. I'm going to have to do it again, too._]] Barricade's expression remained hard, a twisted smile still on his lips. But the words that floated through his processor sounded like the Barricade that Bluestreak remembered. [[ _I would have let you act it out yourself but... I remember you never were very good at lying. Soundwave is very good at spotting lies._ ]] Barricade's optics narrowed, and he said, "Now, let's see what you have for me."

As soon as Bluestreak realized that Barricade had heard his thoughts, Bluestreak froze. _Cade?_ He stared up at Barricade, who nodded minutely. Bluestreak tried again. _I can't believe it's really you, Cade._

Barricade's response was immediate. [[ _I thought you were dead, Blue._ ]] He turned Bluestreak's hand as if to examine his data port, but then gently rested his fingers on either side of the data connection. Barricade's hand was warm, just like it had always been. [[ _When I felt the bond break as soon as Praxus was attacked, I was sure you'd died._ ]] His optics darkened. [[ _For a **century** I've thought you were dead. I thought that's why Prowl had given up on me. And... I still don't blame him for breaking our bond._]]

Prowl's name conjured up Bluestreak's impression of his bond mate: a serious set to his wings, his shy smile, the way his optics dimmed when he bit into a rust stick. Bluestreak shook his helm as he stared up at Barricade. _Cade, Prowl didn't give up on you. He had the bond broken so we could re-establish the bond between me and him._

A wash of realization broke over Barricade's face and his optics brightened. [[ _He didn't... He didn't give up on me?_ ]]

 _No!_ Memories of Prowl's old anger towards Barricade surfaced then, and Bluestreak paused. _I mean, he was mad at you. He still is. But that's not why he broke the bond. He had to, so that we could..._ The memory of the pain of the broken bonds, and his relief when the bond between him and Prowl was re-established washed over him. _So that I wouldn't be alone. And you were..._

[[ _With the Decepticons._ ]] More emotions flicked across Barricade's face: relief, sadness, regret. Then he flicked his wings out, and his expression settled back into the sneer it was before. [[ _I'm sorry. I'm sorry that both of you had to go through that. All of it._ ]]

Bluestreak touched the hole in his spark, carefully steering clear of the painful edge as he looked up at the mech who used to fill it. _You knew that Prowl was still alive?_

Barricade's cruel smile softened. [[ _Of course. The name of the brilliant Autobot tactician who has been advising the Prime? His name has been known for a long time._ ]] Barricade's fingers stroked at the surface of Bluestreak's wrist before he pulled his hand back. [[ _He's very smart. You should both be proud of how much trouble he's caused the Decepticons._ ]] His optics narrowed. [[ _Now, brace yourself._ ]]

Before Bluestreak could respond, Barricade gripped Bluestreak's chin. His claws rested against the soft mesh covering Bluestreak's neck cables, but they didn't dig in at all. "I can't believe you don't have any information worth our time," Barricade growled, flaring his door wings outwards. "Where's your base? Surely you know how to get home."

Before Bluestreak could stop it, his processor flashed an image of the _Ark_ , nestled into a blind canyon in mountains on the continent's west, accompanied by navigational markers. Bluestreak felt Barricade pause as he saw these details before quickly brushing them aside.

A moment later, Bluestreak's frame writhed in another bout of mock pain and agony.

When he was finally released, Bluestreak's engine was roaring as if he'd actually been subjected to the torment of a forced download. But nothing hurt; his processor felt clear and fine. The only indication that Barricade was still connected were the cables still linked into his data port, and the sensation of someone carefully stepping through his data files.

Barricade gently brushed his attention past one of Bluestreak's files, like someone running their fingers along the surface of a datapad. A memory of Prowl telling Bluestreak that Barricade had been killed rose to the surface of Bluestreak's processor, and Bluestreak felt Barricade pause again. _We thought you were dead, Cade._ Bluestreak saw the image Prowl had shown him, of Barricade glaring up at the Autobot surveillance craft. _All this time we thought you were gone._

[[ _So that's why you replaced me._ ]] Barricade looked over at Smokescreen, and for an instant Bluestreak could see his other bond mate from Barricade's point of view. Smokescreen's mouth was slack, and his optics were dark. He looked peaceful. [[ _I don't blame you, you know, after what I did._ ]] Barricade's optics dimmed as he looked back down at Bluestreak.

Barricade's words seemed to echo in Bluestreak's processor, and Bluestreak shook his helm. _You weren't replaced, Cade._ Carefully, not sure if it would even work, Bluestreak felt along that space in his spark, the place where Barricade used to be, bracing himself for the flash of pain that always came with venturing there. When that flash came, he saw Barricade flinch. _No one could ever replace you, even if..._ Bluestreak let himself remember all of the horrors of the war: the friends he lost, the Decepticon atrocities he'd seen, and the single image of Barricade firing a shot into the helm of a helpless mech under his pede. _Even if I still don't understand how you stood alongside all that the Decepticons have done, or why you're still with them._

For a moment, Barricade's optics went wide before they narrowed again. [[ _There's a lot you don't understand, Blue. Choices are a luxury-_ ]] Barricade's voice cut off and his hand flew up to press against his spark. His optics squeezed shut, a furrow between his optics.

 _So tell me what I don't understand!_ Bluestreak's arm twitched as he tried to reach out to grab Barricade, but his arm was still firmly strapped to the slab beneath him. _Explain it to me!_

Barricade's door wings trembled for several moments before he was able to collect himself. Bluestreak could sense him mentally pacing back and forth, and his wings flicked up and down a few times. Finally, he vented softly, opened his optics, and leaned down into Bluestreak's face. Barricade lifted his lip in a mockery of the grin that Bluestreak used to know and growled, "Let's try this one more time, Autobot. How many troops do you have on this planet?"

As Bluestreak's frame was grabbed and made to move against his will once more, another scream was wrung from Bluestreak's vocalizer, just shy of being loud enough to cause damage. As he puppeted Bluestreak's frame, Barricade's voice sounded in his processor again. [[ _I have a question for you, and it's important that you answer truthfully._ ]] Barricade's optics were fixed on Bluestreak's as he thrashed on the slab. [[ _What would you have done if you'd seen me on the battlefield?_ ]] Bluestreak felt his frame twist in a mockery of pain one more time before it was allowed to collapse back down onto the slab. [[ _Would you have shot me?]_ ] Barricade's optics flicked up to look at the cannon mounts on Bluestreak's shoulders. [[ _Would you have pulled the trigger?_ ]]

It was a question that Bluestreak had asked himself many times. Before they'd thought Barricade was dead, Bluestreak had a nagging fear that one day he'd face Barricade across a battlefield. Then when Hound told him how he'd shot Trailbreaker to save him, Bluestreak wondered if he would be able to do the same if it came down to it.

He still didn't know the answer.

Bluestreak blinked at Barricade's face, trying to understand what he was seeing in the other Praxian's expression. Barricade looked expectant... Maybe even hopeful.

Bluestreak shook his helm. "I don't know," he said, his voice sounding weak. He reset his vocalizer and tried again. "I don't know the answer to that question."

At Bluestreak's reply, Barricade stood up straight, flicking his door wings out to the side, the way he always had done when he had come to a decision about something. "Well, this has all been a waste of my fragging time," Barricade sneered. But his fingers still rested gently on Bluestreak's chest.

Bluestreak felt Barricade slipping backwards out of his mind, treading carefully so as not to cause any pain or damage. Then Barricade was at the threshold of his processor, already beginning to disentangle himself from Bluestreak's consciousness. As he worked, a sad smile flashed across Barricade's face before he schooled his expression. [[ _I never wanted to hurt you, Blue. You or Prowl. I always thought I was doing the right thing, but..._ ]] Barricade's optics narrowed as his words entered Bluestreak's processor. [[ _But I **promise** I will get you out of here, somehow._]]

Bluestreak had no reason to trust Barricade. Not now. Not really. Barricade had conspired to start this war. Bluestreak knew some of the terrible things that Prowl had learned Barricade had done. And here he was, on another planet, still fighting against the Autobots.

But something in Barricade's expression looked familiar. He recalled a similar expression on Barricade's face when he was ranting against what he'd seen as injustices that the Senate was committing. It was an expression of stubborn determination. It was an expression that said nothing was going to stand in Barricade's way after he'd made up his mind about something.

_I trust you, Cade._

Barricade's optics opened wide, then his jaw clenched. From Barricade's point of view, Bluestreak saw a flash of Smokescreen again, still offline on the other slab in the room.

[[ _Your new trine mate._ ]] Barricade's voice in Bluestreak's processor sounded gentle, almost hesitant. [[ _Is he kind? Does he treat you well?_ ]]

Bluestreak stared at up at Barricade, then touched the place in his spark where Smokescreen existed, letting himself feel all of his impressions of Smokescreen: laid-back and compassionate, pragmatic but caring, one who put others before himself. _Yes. He is very kind._

Barricade looked at Smokescreen again before focusing down at Bluestreak for a final time. [[ _Good. I'm glad. That's all I've ever wanted for you._ ]] Out loud, he said, "Maybe your partner will be more helpful."

Then Bluestreak felt Barricade pull up the access to his medical commands, and a moment later Bluestreak fell back into the darkness of stasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting since **July** to share this chapter with you. You have no idea how hard I have been biting my tongue when reading some of the comments you've left me. 😂 
> 
> I'd hoped to have a final chapter count for you by the time we reached this point, but I haven't quite drafted enough story yet. But based on how I think it's going, it feels like this fic will end up somewhere between 62 and 65 chapters total (I'm working on chapters 58, 59, and the epilogue right now.) Yes, we are getting towards the end!


	53. ...and Freed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smokescreen makes a deal with the Decepticons.

"Blue? Are you awake?"

Bluestreak's optics powered on as his processor finished its reboot. A quick flurry of error messages flickered past on his HUD, reminding him that he'd been forcibly placed into stasis. Then the three data points he'd queued for immediate review upon waking presented themselves:

He and Smokescreen had been captured.

**Decepticons!**

**_Barricade!!_ **

Bluestreak sat up quickly, then groaned as his processor protested the sudden movement. He immediately felt Prowl's presence, all determination streaked with concern, sweeping across the distance between them to wrap him in its embrace. He also felt the much closer, brighter form of Smokescreen, standing back from Prowl's frantic examination but exuding a tense calm.

As Bluestreak lifted a hand to his helm, he heard Smokescreen's voice again. "It'll pass in a minute. I think it's leftover from that stasis rod they used on us earlier at the warehouse." Smokescreen sent him a reassuring touch over the bond. "Are you doing all right, otherwise?"

Bluestreak squeezed his optics closed as the wash of pain gradually filtered out of his system. Once it was gone, he cautiously opened his optics again and looked around. He was sitting on a low slab in a small cell. The bright light overhead cast harsh shadows on the ground, and a low hum emanated from the security field across the door of his tiny prison. Bluestreak rose from the slab and crossed to the security field, peering through the shimmering light.

Across from him was just a bare wall, with a doorway leading out to a hallway to his right. No other cells were visible from his. However, he could see a faint glow on the ground to his left from another cell's security field. "I think I'm all right," Bluestreak said. "How about you?"

From the cell to Bluestreak's left, Smokescreen said, "That's good. And I'm as fine as can be expected." There was a scraping noise, like a pede against an unswept floor. "So..."

Then Bluestreak felt Smokescreen brush, ever so gently, against that place in his spark where Barricade used to be. As soon as he touched the edge, sending a quick flare of discomfort across the bond, Smokescreen retreated, and then sent Bluestreak a querying nudge.

Bluestreak put his back to the wall next to Smokescreen's cell, and slowly slid down until he was seated on the floor. It made sense the way that Smokescreen had asked; of course these cells would be monitored. Barricade must have told Smokescreen who he was. "Yeah," Bluestreak said quietly. "That's him."

Smokescreen made a soft, thoughtful noise, then said, "For some reason, I always thought he was taller."

Letting his helm fall backwards to thud against the wall of the cell, Bluestreak stared up at the ceiling. Barricade obviously did not want his superiors to know that he knew Bluestreak, or certainly not that they'd ever been bonded. Vortex had seemed so thrilled to have bonded mechs to interrogate; what would that mean if the Decepticons knew Barricade had once been bonded to Bluestreak? He wondered what would happen if they did know. Would it be bad for him, or for Barricade? Or maybe it would be bad for both of them.

Bluestreak didn't want to find out.

Frag, **Barricade** was still alive!

Bluestreak had no idea how to even go about processing that thought. Instead, he focused on his spark bonds. He sensed that Prowl's presence had faded somewhat, probably because he was concentrating on something. Plans for their rescue, no doubt. Needing to do something to take his processor off of the fact that Barricade ( _Barricade!_ ) was alive and was one of their captors, Bluestreak decided to start with the obvious. "Prowl's pretty frantic, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah," Smokescreen said. "He is. He's been pinging both of us ever since we got put in here." He paused, and then added, "Now that you're finally online he seems to have backed off a bit. I tried to reassure him that you were all right, but... Well, you know Prowl. He worries."

Nodding even though Smokescreen couldn't see him, Bluestreak next reached out towards his other bond mate. Smokescreen was radiating a sense of cool that still felt tightly wound. Bluestreak probed gently at the bond, and found that Smokescreen had it partially constricted, limiting what Bluestreak could detect from him. When Bluestreak prodded their connection again, Smokescreen reacted by pulling back, but then sending Bluestreak another stroke of reassurance. That reassurance did not quite cover up the feeling that Smokescreen was trying to conceal something.

"Hey, Smokey?" Bluestreak asked, frowning.

"Yeah?"

Bluestreak wanted to ask why Smokescreen was blocking him, but instead he just asked, "Are you **sure** you're all right?"

Smokescreen's response was immediate. "Oh yeah! I'm just **fine** ," Smokescreen replied, and he sent along another reassuring touch. "Trust me."

However, he did not lift the block.

They'd only been bonded about fifteen years, barely even the flash of a spark. But even still, Bluestreak thought that he knew Smokescreen fairly well. They'd always been open with each other, and the bond between Bluestreak and Smokescreen and Prowl was as strong as any trine bond could be.

But this... This was something new, and Bluestreak didn't like it.

What could it be? Had Barricade said something to Smokescreen? Was Smokescreen mad at him? Had Barricade **done** something to Smokescreen? Could a hacker change a spark bond somehow? Could they implant suggestions to hurt your bond mate? Bluestreak hadn't heard of anyone being subjected to anything like that back on Cybertron, but the Decepticons' technology had always been ahead of the Autobots'. The last impression that Bluestreak had of Barricade before he'd been put back into stasis was that Barricade wasn't going to do anything to hurt him or Smokescreen. But what if Bluestreak's impression had been **wrong**? What if Barricade **had** done something to change Smokescreen's bond with him? What if-

Bluestreak felt his anxiety ramping back up again, this time twining the fact that Barricade was still alive ( _Barricade!!_ ) and now Smokescreen was hiding something from him. And even though he was far away, the constant sizzle of Prowl's anxiety had crept into Bluestreak's spark.

Smokescreen gave him a quick, almost playful nudge across their bond while still keeping their connection constricted. "Hey," Smokescreen said. "Remember those calming techniques I taught you? You know, the ones like naming all of the streets in Iacon you could remember, or focusing on your ventilations?" 

"Yeah?"

Smokescreen's voice took on a stern, almost commanding tone when he replied. "This might be a good time to use those techniques."

Before Bluestreak could ask what Smokescreen meant, he heard pedesteps in the hallway outside the cell chamber. Just as Bluestreak scrambled to a standing position, Barricade entered the room.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come back online," Barricade said, his scarlet optics lingered for a moment on Bluestreak's before standing against the wall opposite him. He crossed his arms under his bumper and looked into Smokescreen's cell. "Vortex can't wait to have a turn with you both. But considering the amount of damage he usually does, I wanted to make sure you didn't have anything else you wanted to give me." Barricade lifted his hand and examined the points of his sharpened talons. "It might earn you a little leniency. I can't promise anything, of course, but it might be worth a shot... If you wanted to take a **gamble**."

"What sort of information are you looking for, specifically?" Smokescreen asked. As soon as Barricade finished speaking, Bluestreak noted that Smokescreen had closed the connection between them even more, almost blocking him out completely.

Bluestreak poked at the block. "Smokey, what are you doing?" he whispered as he pushed on the barrier between their sparks.

Barricade glanced at Bluestreak again before slowly walking over to Smokescreen's cell, looking like a predator stalking its prey. His door wings were held out stiffly behind him, but the rest of him looked like a volt tiger ready to pounce. "I'm looking for something of use to us. I know your friend here doesn't have anything useful. But I'd like to take a look at some of the data that you've got encrypted to see if it's something we'd be interested in. For example, the size of your forces here on this damp little planet. The state of your energon reserves. The location of your base."

Bluestreak frowned. Encrypted data? None of his memory files were encrypted. The last time he'd been asked to do that was when he was doing deep runs near Kaon. The disorientation and lag the process caused meant that it was only done under very specific circumstances. Besides, Bluestreak also remembered that he'd accidentally shown Barricade the location of their base earlier. And as far as he knew, Smokescreen didn't have any memory files encrypted right now, either. There hadn't been a need for that, since they thought they'd left the Decepticons behind on Cybertron.

But before Bluestreak could say anything, Smokescreen replied. "I can give you all of that information... But only if you let Bluestreak go."

"Smokey, no!" Bluestreak pressed his hands to the security field without thinking, before yelping in pain and drawing his hands back.

Ignoring Bluestreak completely, Barricade put his hands on his hips and tipped his helm to the side. "You're not really in a position to be bargaining," Barricade said, his lip curling upwards to reveal one of his fangs. "Vortex can probably drag that information out of you. He's a bit of an artist when it comes to using pain as a motivator."

Recalling the cold laugh that the other interrogator had made when he realized he and Smokescreen were bonded, Bluestreak flared out his door wings wide. "Barricade, **please** ," he said, almost reaching up to touch the security field again before remembering himself. " **Please** don't do this."

Barricade finally looked fully at Bluestreak, his scarlet optics meeting the other Praxian's. His expression hadn't changed, but there was a slight dip to his door wings, a twitch that only someone very familiar with Barricade's mannerisms might have noticed. His jaw clenched again, causing the thickened scar on his cheek to ripple slightly as he stared at Bluestreak.

Smokescreen's laugh broke the moment like crystal, and Barricade's gaze swiveled back to him. "You know I'm Special Ops," Smokescreen said. "You know you're probably not going to get anything from me that I don't want you to get." Bluestreak still couldn't see Smokescreen from his angle, but Smokescreen's voice sounded confident. Bluestreak could almost picture him standing with his hands in his hips, mirroring Barricade's stance. "I am more than willing to crash my own memory banks to protect the other Autobots if necessary."

Bluestreak's optics went wide in shock. "Smokey, no!" he exclaimed, pushing on the block between them as hard as he could. From a distance, he could feel Prowl reacting to Bluestreak's shock, adding his own weight behind Bluestreak's, but the block held firm. "Don't do that!"

If Smokescreen crashed his memory banks, he could lose almost everything: memories of him and Bluestreak, of Prowl, of his previous trine. He would still have the connection between their sparks, but he would not know why they were bonded or what brought them together in the first place. All his schooling, his experiences, his personality... All of it could be wiped out, unless Ratchet was able to rescue portions before they were overwritten.

But no matter how hard Bluestreak pushed, the block between them was solid.

Smokescreen spoke again, his voice steady and confident. "Let Bluestreak go, and I’ll give you anything you want."

Barricade tipped his helm to the side, considering. "Give me the info first, and then you've got a deal."

"Deal." Smokescreen's answer was firm.

Barricade unholstered a blaster, and patted the stasis rod that hung from a clip at his waist. "Don't even think about trying anything," Barricade said as he reached out his hand to key open Smokescreen's cell. "You won't get ten meters before bringing all of the guards in this section down on you." He gestured with the gun, indicating a camera set over the door of the cell room.

Smokescreen walked calmly out of his cell with his hands behind his helm, giving Bluestreak his first look at his bond mate. Aside from some scratches and one door wing that hung a bit lower than the other, he looked like he was in good repair. But he did not look at Bluestreak, and the block was still as strong as it had been since Bluestreak had come back online.

"Barricade, **please**!" Bluestreak said as Barricade stepped back to make more room for Smokescreen. "You don't have to do this."

Barricade's door wings fell again, just slightly, but he did not look at Bluestreak. Instead he gestured with his weapon again for Smokescreen to move towards the cell room door. "Let's go," Barricade said.

Smokescreen turned and took one step towards the door. Then he spun, throwing an elbow into Barricade's face and grabbing the gun from him. Smokescreen took a step backwards from Barricade, aimed the gun...

And fired.

Barricade cried out, clutching his shoulder as he fell to his knees. He yelped in pain as Smokescreen pounced on him, pinning him to the ground with his legs. Smokescreen twisted, pulling the stasis rod from Barricade's waist before arming it and jamming the business end into Barricade's neck.

With a shower of sparks and garbled static, Barricade arched upwards and then collapsed to the ground, his optics dark.

Bluestreak's mouth hung open. He barely even registered the fact that Smokescreen used the blaster to take out the camera over the cell room door before pulling a keypass out of Barricade's subspace and running to Bluestreak's cell. All Bluestreak could see was Barricade laying on the floor, offline.

_Barricade!_

He refocused on Smokescreen when his cell door deactivated, and his bond mate gripped his chin guard. "Blue," Smokescreen said, his voice calm and even. "Are you all right?" And Smokescreen was there in his spark, finally, as the block was released and Bluestreak could feel his bond mate again. Smokescreen was projecting anticipation and reassurance as his optics searched Bluestreak's face. "You're not hurt?"

Bluestreak stared at Smokescreen, then looked down at Barricade again. "Barricade," Bluestreak said, finding his voice. "You... you shot him."

Smokescreen opened his mouth to say something. But an instant later his door wings twitched upwards in alertness, his presence in Bluestreak's spark sharpening. Smokescreen whirled around just as two Seekers entered the cell room.

A burly Seeker with purple and black plating entered first, his optics flicking from Smokescreen down to Barricade's frame on the floor. Behind him was a slimmer, shorter Seeker, his colours an attractive mix of red and pale grey with blue highlights. He carried himself confidently, sweeping into the cell room and lifting his arms to point his weaponry at Smokescreen and Bluestreak.

The pale grey seeker glanced down at Barricade. In a voice that sounded like glass scraping against concrete, he said, "You're efficient, I'll give you that."

Bluestreak backpedaled, his hand instinctively searching for a gun that was not holstered in his thigh. Then he remembered his bond mate still held Barricade's gun in his hand. "Smokey!" he hissed, lifting his hands into the air. "The gun!"

But Smokescreen did not move. He did not lift the weapon to point it at the Seekers; instead, he lifted his hands into the air like Bluestreak had done, Barricade's gun dangling from his fingers loosely. "There's honestly no need to point your weapons at us," Smokescreen said coolly. "I promised Barricade I would hold up my end of the deal. Now, tell us what you need, and let us go."

"Barricade has always been overly trusting, ever since the beginning," the grey Seeker said. Something about his voice and his face nagged at Bluestreak's memory, but just out of reach. The Seeker tipped his helm to the side. "We are taking a huge risk with this. Convince **me** that you're trustworthy."

Smokescreen nudged Barricade's motionless frame with the toe of his pede. "Barricade said you need help." Smokescreen's voice was steady, and he was projecting sincerity, even lowering his door wings, but over the bond he felt like a spring wound tight enough to snap. "I'm sure that I can get the Prime to help you, especially if it means ending the war."

The Seeker scoffed and rolled his optics. "I will believe **that** when I see it. But..." His wings dipped and his red optics narrowed as he continued to stare at Smokescreen, but he finally lowered his arms to point his weapons back at the floor. "We've tried everything else."

Something in the way the Seeker sneered at Smokescreen finally triggered the correct memory for Bluestreak, and his door wings flared outward in shock. He remembered that voice, and that face. He had seen that face before everything had gone bad, here and there on the news whenever Vos was brought up in a story. He remembered that it had been plastered on the news and vid screens for months after the war had officially started. He remembered it smiling at him from the holo, conjuring up the horrible memory of Barricade shooting that mech in the Senate.

"You're Starscream," Bluestreak said, his vocalizer sounding dull to his own audials.

Starscream's helm swiveled to look at Bluestreak for a moment before snapping his fingers at the other Seeker. "Get the grate open. No sense in wasting any more time." As the purple Seeker walked over to a vent and started prying at the metal grating covering it, Starscream strode towards Bluestreak. "As for **you**..." As he stepped over Barricade's frame, Starscream lifted his impressive wings as if to make himself seem larger. Bluestreak tried to step away from him, but his back hit the wall just as Starscream stopped right in front of him. "Barricade said we could trust you. He called you **compassionate** and **caring.** " Starscream made the words sound like a curse. "He is trusting you enough to take the risk to step away from the Decepticons. At this point I don't give a scrap about him, but I hope he's right, that we can trust you."

Bluestreak stared up at the taller Seeker, his spark feeling like it was going to spin right out of his chest. He knew that Starscream was one of Megatron's trusted officers, and was deadly on the battlefield; Autobots rarely returned from battles in which they faced Starscream or his trine. And here he was, standing just a meter away from Bluestreak, close enough that Bluestreak could see the filaments in his narrowed optics.

As Bluestreak struggled to find something to say in response to Starscream (they could trust him with what? What in the name of Primus was going on?), he could feel Prowl desperately swirling around him in his spark, trying to figure out what had cause the panic that had brought Bluestreak's processor to a standstill.

And then a blanket of calm from Smokescreen descended on Bluestreak's spark, dousing the fear with a wave of reassurance as Smokescreen stepped between Bluestreak and Starscream. "Barricade said you needed help, something that only the Autobots could do for you. He said you needed help to undo something that Megatron had done, something that he couldn't explain to me," Smokescreen said quietly. Bluestreak could feel his bond mate was still tense, but his tone was soothing, as if speaking to someone on the brink of doing something stupid. "Barricade said that if we were able to help, it could turn the tide of the war."

"Yes. The war." Starscream's lip curled up into a sneer, displaying the sharpened point of one fang. "Your CMO is supposed to be one of the best Cybertronian doctors in the galaxy. Primus knows he has kept your troops functioning for longer than he should have been able to," he said. "If Ratchet is able to help us with-" Starscream's optics widened, then clamped shut as he doubled over, his hands going to his chest. A high-pitched whine came from his vocalizer.

In a flash of purple light, the other Seeker was next to Starscream, an arm going around his shoulders to support him. "Star, I'm telling you, you're going to damage yourself permanently if you keep trying to do **that**."

"I'm **fine** ," Starscream rasped, already straightening from his crouch. He shook out his wings as he rubbed his chest again, and then shook off the other Seeker's touch. "I'm fine, Skywarp," Starscream repeated, his voice softer now. Then Starscream pulled a data chip from his subspace and handed it to Smokescreen. "It's all on there. Everything. We've tried **everything** and..." Starscream hesitated as if considering his words before continuing. "You really are our last hope." He spat out the words bitterly.

Smokescreen took the data chip from Starscream and nodded solemnly. "If you're being truthful about this ending the war, I promise that I'll do everything to get you the help you need."

Rather than looking pleased by Smokescreen's promise, Starscream scowled. "Pardon me for not hovering in anticipation of your assistance. But..." He glanced at Skywarp as the other Seeker put his hand on his shoulder, and his expression softened again. "If you are able to untangle what Lord Megatron has done... If you can find some way to undo- Augh!" Starscream's hand flew to his chest again and he squeezed his optics shut. 

"Star!" Skywarp exclaimed, his arm going around Starscream's shoulders again.

This time, Starscream shook him off, spreading his wings wide even as his red optics went pale with pain. "Go. Get them out of here! Thundercracker is already reporting the camera outage to Soundwave, and more guards will be here soon. I'll tell them I found the grate like this when I got here." He gestured at the open ventilation shaft and the grating that Skywarp had left on the ground beside it.

Now Smokescreen hesitated and glanced uncertainly at Bluestreak before looking back at the Seekers. He still felt tense and calm, but Bluestreak could also feel a trickle of doubt in him. "How exactly are we getting out of here? We won't know the way through the vents. Are you escorting us?" Smokescreen asked.

Skywarp laughed coldly. "No, the vent is just a misdirection." With a grunt, he stooped down to pick up Barricade and threw him over his shoulder. Then he strode towards Bluestreak and Smokescreen. "I'm taking you." When Bluestreak flinched away from him again, Skywarp growled and reached out to grab Bluestreak's arm. "Don't struggle. Oh, and you might want to close your optics," Skywarp said as he grabbed Smokescreen's arm with his other hand.

Bluestreak was just about to reply that he had absolutely **no** intention of closing his optics while being restrained by a Decepticon, when suddenly the world turned inside out in a flash of purple light. Up became down, light became dark, sensation became thought, and reality folded itself into nothing.

Before Bluestreak had time to even think about screaming, they were back in the real world. He felt cool air on his face, and heard the roar of waves. He refocused his optics to find himself standing on a sandy beach, a few hundred meters from the rolling ocean surf. The dark sky was filled with stars, but opposite the beach, over the mountains just visible to the east, there was a soft glow to the sky, indicating a promise of a bright day to come.

Beside him, Smokescreen had collapsed to his knees, and Bluestreak could feel him struggling to keep the contents of his fuel tanks in place. "Are you all right?" Bluestreak asked, bending down and putting his hand on Smokescreen's back.

"I think so," Smokescreen said weakly, and smiled at Bluestreak. "I guess that's another Decepticon technology we never got ahold of."

"You probably never will, either," Skywarp said. His tone was matter-of-fact. "Not unless one of you wants to become Shockwave's personal test subject like I was." Skywarp bent over and lowered Barricade to the ground, letting him fall into the sand with a thump.

Bluestreak dove to Barricade's side. "Cade!" he said, laying his hand on Barricade's chest. "Please wake up..."

"Don't bring him back online until you've looked at what's on that chip," Skywarp growled. Bluestreak looked up in time to see the Seeker step back and spread his large wings wide. "Starscream went through a lot of pain and trouble to collect that information. We all did. And... He meant what he said. We're out of options. I mean, **obviously** we are, if we're turning to the Autobots for help."

"Help with what?" Smokescreen asked. "I know I promised to help, but I just want to temper expectations of what we're able to do."

Skywarp glared at Smokescreen, his wings trembling slightly as he made fists with his hands. "Just... **Do** something with that info. We're trusting you." Skywarp's voice sounded strained. "I don't think this war went the way any of us expected, and... We're through following Lord Megatron down this path."

Then, in another flash of purple light, the Seeker vanished.

"Smokey!" Bluestreak exclaimed, reaching towards his bond mate. "What the **frag** is going on?"

Smokescreen shuffled forward on his knees and pulled Bluestreak into an embrace. "If there's even a chance at ending the war, after everything we've seen and all that's happened..." Smokescreen's voice crackled with static. "Barricade offered me that chance. I **had** to take it. And... It got you out of there."

"But what did we agree to do?" Bluestreak asked.

"Barricade didn't give me details, but he seemed confident that it would upend the war. And... I could tell he trusts you, and Prowl." A flicker of uncertainty flashed through the bond as Smokescreen held up the data chip. "We'll know exactly what they need as soon as we can read what's on this," he said. He subspaced the chip as he lifted his hand to his audial. "Ah, comms are unjammed now." He opened a comm channel, copying Bluestreak on it. "Corporal Smokescreen to _Ark 1_ , come in please."

Almost immediately Blaster's voice replied to Smokescreen's hail. " _Ark 1_ to Smokescreen, we're reading you loud and clear. Good to hear from you finally! Where the frag are you? We've been searching all over for-"

"Smokescreen!" Prowl's voice cut into the channel. His voice sounded strained, and Bluestreak could feel Prowl's cautious optimism warring with anxiety through the bond. "Thank Primus you're safe. Is Bluestreak with you?"

"Prowl, I'm here!" Bluestreak said. He rocked backwards as he felt a burst of relief from Prowl, but he steeled himself for his next words. Bluestreak looked down at his offline but still very alive ex-bond mate. "But Prowl... Prowl, listen to me... We have Barricade. He's alive!"

Both the comm line and the bond went silent with shock from Prowl.


	54. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots decide what to do with the information obtained from the Decepticons.

In all the years they'd been aboard the _Ark_ , Bluestreak had only been in the officers' meeting room a handful of times.

As the Autobots worked their way through the hundreds of space bridges they'd used to travel to Earth, the command team had set up a rotation for mechs interested in future advancement. That opportunity gave mechs a chance to perform duties that were out of the ordinary for them, and also gave the officers a bit of a break. Some mechs took to the expanded responsibilities easily; for example, Beachcomber had a penchant for organizing and scheduling shifts that made Ironhide lift his thick brow ridges in surprise. Other mechs did not do well; Cliffjumper had no patience for the tedium of officer meetings and was quickly dismissed from his temporary role.

Bluestreak had assisted Ironhide and Prowl with some of the more onerous minutiae of managing shipboard activities, and gladly stepped in to help Wheeljack and Perceptor with inventory of the Science Division's supplies. He especially enjoyed the officer meetings, as they brought back memories of his time at Qhasel Logistics. He was able to focus on what needed to be done, taking minutes and translating the information provided during the meeting into immediate and future activities.

But today, Bluestreak's attention was divided. As the hastily-called meeting continued, he struggled to contain his own roil of confused emotions and filter out the shock that kept leaking through from Prowl. His bond mate's reaction to discovering Barricade was alive had alleviated the tickling worry that Prowl had kept this from him, somehow. There was no doubt in Bluestreak's processor that Prowl had no idea Barricade had survived.

However, that didn't stop Bluestreak from struggling with the emotions he was feeling from Prowl. Fortunately, Smokescreen had placed himself as a physical and sympathetic buffer between Bluestreak and Prowl, giving them both their own space to feel everything it was that they both needed to feel.

Bluestreak just wasn't sure what the emotions he was feeling **were**.

Later. He could feel everything **later**. Right now, he needed to focus on what was being said.

Ratchet was frowning down at a data pad in his hand. "The information on the data chip is extensive. It looks like Starscream's been compiling some of it for almost a century, probably since the beginning of the war." Ratchet set the data pad down on the table and looked around. "We've only had a chance to look at it briefly, but there are two main things we need to discuss. First, we have our answer for why we couldn't keep captive Decepticon officers alive. They weren't killing themselves. Instead, they were being killed, remotely, by Megatron himself."

Optimus Prime shook his helm. "I find this very troubling, especially since we may have had a chance to stop it, and couldn't."

"Well, it was designed to be well-hidden and hard to remove. It's a crazy piece of work," said Wheeljack as he flipped through his own data pad. "This is that 'loyalty microcode' we saw referenced a few places. There was never any detail about it, so we assumed it was a tracking or reporting mechanism, or something along those lines." Wheeljack shrugged. "This is a lot more interesting but... It's also a lot worse."

"At the start of the war, Megatron had this code developed by a scientist named Jhiaxus. I remember his work from before the war; he was brilliant, but wholly ignored any moral code." Ratchet frowned. "He had a history of having experiment proposals turned down by ethics boards. Looks like Megatron wasn't too worried about the ethics of this particular innovation."

"So what does it do, exactly?" Jazz asked, lounging back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back.

Ratchet turned and activated the holo at the far end of the meeting room. The image was a Cybertronian processor, with a portion in the very center lit up red. "Based on the information Starscream provided, the code is inserted into the processor core. It duplicates the coding used to initiate spark bonds so it has access to those processes, then replaces one copy of the code with what's essentially a microcode virus." The doctor's upper lip twisted in disgust. "Once the code is activated, it automatically pairs the victim's spark with Megatron's."

Bluestreak felt another quiver of shock from Prowl. "So do you mean that Megatron is... spark bonded to all of his officers?"

Wheeljack shook his helm. "No, no, not at all. I mean, not like you're thinking, that is. It uses the same quantum connection as a spark bond, but it's a lot more limited, and it only goes one way. It's only used as a conduit for Megatron to use the other tools that are built into the code."

"Tools that Megatron uses to torture and kill his mechs when they displease him," Ratchet said flatly. "Megatron initially had it installed in all of his followers who were very close to him. Then once the Decepticons organized into an army, it was installed in his officers. According to the information we received from Starscream, it was considered part of the promotion: meeting Megatron and linking up with him. Once it's installed, it corrupts your coding. Starscream wrote there's no way to undo the damage, not that they could find." The image of the processor on the holo flashed, red lines webbing their way through the processor. "As the war went on, Megatron expanded it so that the program was installed in anyone who he thought might pose a threat to him and his command. When they left Cybertron, he had it installed in **all** of the troops who came with him." The scowl on Ratchet's face deepened. "He uses it to control his troops, wielding it as a way to coerce them into doing what he wants. For example, he can use it to cause overwhelming pain in someone from across the room, just to intimidate others into not speaking out against him. And he can trigger spark failure in anyone, from practically any distance, since it utilizes the same quantum connection as a spark bond. That's what was happening to those Decepticons we captured. As soon as it was reported to Megatron that we'd captured them, he'd just kill them so they couldn't divulge any secrets to us."

Bluestreak leaned forward and put his hands flat on the table. "What about Barricade?" he asked, his wings quivering. "What if Megatron kills him now?" Bluestreak could feel his spark pounding against its casing at the thought of losing Barricade so quickly after finding him again. He relaxed slightly when Smokescreen put his hand on his, but even Smokescreen's emotions were turbulent.

"He's safe for the time being," Ratchet said, his voice gentling. "That's one of the safeguards that we learned back on Cybertron with captured Decepticon officers. If they're in full stasis lock, they won't die. We never understood what was really going on. It turns out they don't die because Megatron can't get a connection with them to kill them." Ratchet looked first at Bluestreak, then at Prowl. "Barricade will only be in danger when we bring him back online, and we won't do that unless we have some way to protect him... And we already have some ideas on how to do that. We won't let anything happen to your ex-bond mate."

Bluestreak felt Prowl bristle slightly, but Bluestreak nodded at Ratchet. "Thanks," he said faintly, and curled his fingers around Smokescreen's hand.

Red Alert's engine growled. "And why haven't we heard about it before this? We should have known something about it if it was this widespread." He glared at Jazz. "I knew that we'd had some bad intelligence failures, but I didn't know it was **this** bad."

"Now, wait just a-" Jazz started to say, rising from his chair.

"That's part of the sheer genius of this code!" Wheeljack said enthusiastically, speaking over Jazz. When Ratchet, Red Alert, and Jazz all turned to scowl at the engineer, Wheeljack reset his vocalizer noisily and his helm fins strobed blue. "I mean, yeah, it's horrible, but the coding that went into this is amazing." He flicked something on his datapad, and the image on the holo rotated to highlight another portion of the illustrated processor. "It's got subcommands that don't allow the victim to talk about the code, write about it, or even **think** about it for too long. If they do, the code causes them pain that escalates if they continue, to the point of damaging relays and interrupting their spark rhythm. They can talk **around** it, but not about it directly. Smokescreen, you said that when you were talking to Barricade, he never specifically mentioned anything about code or programs, right?"

Smokescreen nodded, turning his attention away from the holo. Bluestreak could feel a crawling horror coming over his bond mate as Smokescreen came to fully realized what they had uncovered. "Right. He just said that there were some Decepticons who were unhappy with Megatron's leadership, and that if we were willing to help them, we might be able to find a way to end the war sooner rather than later." Smokescreen looked at Bluestreak and dipped his door wings. "I suspected that Barricade just wanted to defect, especially after he found out that Bluestreak was still alive. I knew Starscream was going to give us some information to bring back with us, but... I just thought it might be a list of other Decepticons who would also want to defect, or maybe some weaknesses in their defenses here. I thought that maybe the help they needed was dealing with some sort of punishment Megatron inflicted on his troops, or dealing with some sort of super weapon they'd developed." Smokescreen gestured helplessly at the holo, and Bluestreak both felt and saw the shudder ripple through his frame. "I had no idea it would really be about **this**."

Wheeljack's helm fins lit up yellow, and he held up a finger. "Speaking of a super weapon-"

At the other end of the table, Jazz's engine grumbled as he interrupted Wheeljack. "This doesn't make a bit of sense," he said. "How could Starscream compile all this information if he couldn't talk about it?"

"Like I said, it looks like Starscream's been compiling this information for almost a century, based on the date stamps on his log entries. Little by little he was able to document as much as he could, even getting other mechs to supply him with some info, which wasn't much. But Starscream's information is very thorough." Ratchet's tone was decidedly complimentary. "We know that he had attended the Vosian Science and Engineering University before he was elected as a councilor in Vos, so he has the background for this. And it sounds like he leaned on his trine mates when he really needed to get something down."

The swirl of distress from Prowl was parted slightly by curiosity. "So the fact that Starscream was bonded let him focus more?"

"It's more that he is in a trine," Ratchet said. "Having **two** mechs to pull support from – and have them take some of the agony he was feeling – meant he was able to work longer than someone who might have only been bonded to one mech. Here... There's an example I can read to you." Ratchet tapped a few times on his data pad. "This entry from about a hundred and twenty years ago contains some very detailed information about one of the core threads the code uses. But the entry becomes less and less coherent as it goes on, and finally it ends with this: 'I have to stop here. The pain has become unbearable for me, and Thundercracker has started screaming. Skywarp is already offline from the pain. I have to stop. I was so close! But I swear I will not give up. I didn't get everything down and I know it'll all vanish again as soon as I stop thinking about it but – frag you, Megatron, you rust stain of a tyrant, I swear I will bring you down for what you've done: to me, my trine, and to the Decepticon cause.'" Ratchet set his data pad down again and looked around the table. "The next entry wasn't for another fifteen years. It looks like that's how long it took Starscream and his trine to recover and get himself psyched up to document more information."

Bluestreak sat back in his chair, Smokescreen's horror taking root in his own spark. **That** is what Barricade was infected with? A program that controlled what you could talk about, and what you could even think about? Bluestreak carefully skirted around that barely-healed rift in his spark where Barricade used to be, wondering if Barricade suffered even more for having holes in his spark. Bluestreak turned his hand over, grasping Smokescreen's, and leaned into the support Smokescreen was giving him.

Instinctively, Bluestreak reached out to Prowl as well, but found that his other bond mate was still stewing in shock and distress.

After sending Prowl a gentle caress of comfort, Bluestreak withdrew. He could talk to Prowl later.

Red Alert had started drumming his fingers on the table as Ratchet spoke. After Ratchet finished, he pointed at Wheeljack. "What were you saying about a super weapon?" he asked. "That sounds more important than whatever trouble the Decepticons have gotten themselves into."

"Yes! I am very excited about this!" Wheeljack exclaimed, immediately perking up. When Ratchet's engine growled, Wheeljack shrunk in his chair slightly. "Err, and it's bad. Yes, very bad." Wheeljack quickly tabbed at his own data pad. The display on the holo changed to a complex formula that Bluestreak couldn't decipher. "With the information Starscream provided here, we finally have an explanation for those weird chimeras that our mobile teams were finding in the last few years of the war on Cybertron. We'd worked out that the Decepticons were using a form of altered energon to manipulate cybernetic matter and organic matter, binding it together and making it something that's a little of both. We were pretty sure that they were trying to create some sort of super soldier."

The screen changed to show a few images of creatures like the horrors that Bluestreak and his team had found at that lab, so many years ago. Bluestreak flinched and looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the terrible sounds that the creatures made.

This time, Bluestreak felt Prowl's presence brush against his spark, sending him a touch of reassurance. Prowl's shock still simmered just below the surface but he seemed to have pushed it aside enough to give Bluestreak strength to bolster him. Bluestreak accepted it, and sent Prowl a touch of gratitude in return.

Wheeljack continued, oblivious to Bluestreak's distress. "Anyway, we were right... Sort of. Cybertron has limited organic matter, as you know. Most of it has been brought by other species as they came to the planet to settle. So their tests were limited to the organics that the Decepticons captured. But now we're on a planet with an almost unlimited amount of organic matter. Based on the information that Starscream provided, Megatron is going to use this material to reformat the Earth!"

In the shocked silence that followed Wheeljack's words, Bluestreak looked up. Everyone was staring at the holo screen, which now showed an image of the planet Earth, warped and half overtaken by metallic structures.

"I take it that's not good for the Earth," Ironhide drawled.

"Nope!" Wheeljack said cheerily, his helm fins lighting up green. "It'll start a chain reaction, killing any organic matter it comes into contact with and converting it into this hybrid cybermatter. But as a side effect, it'll also create skifffulls of raw energon." He tapped his data pad again, and the planet on the screen lit up with pink dots showing potential energon deposits. "They **had** been trying to create super soldiers, originally. But after they discovered the byproduct of the reaction, they started looking at developing this material to restart Cybertron's core, regrowing the planet's energon reserves. But there wasn't enough organic matter on the planet to make it work."

"And now we led them straight to a planet with plenty of organic matter." Optimus Prime stared at the screen, his shoulders slumping. "We came here in part to escape the destruction of our world, only to bring that same destruction to another world."

"Will this reformatting cause any danger to us or to the _Ark_?" Red Alert asked.

"Only in that we're surrounded by organic matter," Wheeljack said. Now the screen showed the exterior of the ship, along with the trees and other plants that grew on every side. "If the reformatting wave passes through here, our ship could become entangled in the material growth. If any of the organic crew members are outside of the ship, they'll be killed. And if any mech is too close to something being converted, they could get merged into the converted portion of the planet."

Bluestreak shuddered at the mental image those words provoked. He immediately received a caress of solace from Smokescreen.

"How do we stop this?" the Prime asked.

"Once it gets going, the reaction is pretty much self-feeding. But it'll take a huge amount of energy to get started," Wheeljack said, and the screen showed another formula. "We're talking simply massive amounts, the equivalent of four or five times the amount of fuel it took us just to get here."

As Wheeljack spoke, Bluestreak could sense Prowl's processor started ticking over with calculations and analyses. Prowl sat up straight and lifted his door wings, still holding Smokescreen's hand tightly in his. "Sir, according to my calculations, there is an 86% chance that they can't possibly have obtained the means to produce enough energy to start the chain reaction already. If they had, they would have started it already," Prowl said. "They must be planning on harvesting the energy here somehow."

Bluestreak's wings twitched upwards as he looked across Smokescreen at Prowl. "When we were captured, the Decepticons definitely weren't expecting to find us there. They had come to the warehouse looking for something. We know that company specializes in solar power and other types of power generators; that's what we were getting ready for transport. They must have been looking to steal some things to produce energy for them to use, and found us there instead."

Jazz nodded slowly. "After ya got captured, the company gave us a list of what all was taken, alongside the two of you. Battery banks, diesel generators, solar panels... Ya might be onto somethin' there, Bluestreak."

Optimus Prime nodded decisively. "I will get in touch with my contacts at the various Earth governments and advise them to be on the alert for any suspicious activity at power generating stations, or thefts of similar devices."

"And I will work with Wheeljack and Perceptor to identify sites that the Decepticons are likely to strike first," Prowl said.

"Sounds good. And after we get you that info, Percy and I will get to work seeing if we can work out how the Decepticons are planning on using those stolen devices," Wheeljack added. "If they've figured out a way to convert raw power to concentrated energon, we could make use of that as well."

The Prime nodded again. "Very good. Dismissed."

As everyone started to rise from their seats, Red Alert blared his siren to catch everyone's attention. "Just hang on. We've still got two things to discuss. First, I want reassurance that those two haven't been tampered with." He pointed at Bluestreak and Smokescreen. "They were brought to this meeting straight from the field. Have they been cleared?"

Ratchet was still rising to go, collecting his data pads as he spoke. "Yes, yes. I did a scan on them as part of the maintenance check as we were flying back after their recovery. I can tell that there was unauthorized access to their systems and processors, but it doesn't look like anything nefarious was done."

"I know we were offline for several hours while in Decepticon custody, but as far as I know only Barricade accessed my systems." Smokescreen nodded at Red Alert. "And our next task will be doing up full reports of everything we witnessed."

"I was gonna take their statements, but you can sit in on that if ya want, Red," Jazz said. "Unless ya don't trust **that** intelligence, either."

Red Alert harrumphed, but nodded. "I'll trust it if I sit in on the interview, thank you." Ignoring Jazz's grimace, he focused on Optimus Prime. "And secondly, speaking of **Barricade** , has everyone forgotten that we still have a Decepticon interrogation officer in our Medical bay? A Decepticon who had a locator beacon in his subspace?" The security officer crossed his arms over his chest. "Do we have plans for him?"

Jazz waved his hand reassuringly. "I've got the beacon secured. We made sure that it hasn't been activated, so we can ask Barricade about it once he's back online."

Ratchet picked up his last data pad and walked towards the door of the meeting room. "I've got Hoist and First Aid making some tweaks to a repulsor field generator, the ones used for bonded prisoners. The generators use quantum interference to keep bond mates from sensing each other or sending each other any emotions via their spark bond, and I think we can use that same function to keep Megatron from sending a kill command." Ratchet paused in the doorway and frowned thoughtfully. "But it won't be perfect. There will be some disadvantages for him that we'll need to work through. The first thing we need to make sure of, though, is that it even works. And Djusro is already looking over the information on the microcode. If anyone can make sense out of this, it's him." He glared around the meeting room one more time. "Is there anything else, or can I get back to work?"

"Thank you for your time, Ratchet," the Prime said. "We'll let you know if we need anything else."

At that, Ratchet nodded and left the meeting room.

Prowl leaned forward slightly, and his wings quivered behind him in restrained emotion. "Let's assume that we can develop a way to block this code, or remove it somehow," he said. "Is the expectation that we just turn around and give that solution to the Decepticons?" Prowl turned to the Prime. "What if we do that, and they **don't** end the war as promised?"

Smokescreen shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Nothing was **promised** , exactly." Bluestreak could feel him looking for the right words that might calm Prowl down, and failing. Finally, Smokescreen said, "But Barricade and Starscream – and his trine mate, Skywarp! – they all implied that if they had free will, they would stop following Lord Megatron."

" **Implied.** " Red Alert crossed his arms and rolled his optics with a huff. "For all we know, once they're off Megatron's leash, the Decepticons will be even more dangerous."

"I don't believe that," Smokescreen said firmly. He looked at the Prime. "As strange as it feels to say, I think we can trust Starscream in this."

The Prime nodded gravely, ignoring Red Alert's second huff. "Now that the Decepticons know we're here, we are at a disadvantage, again. We came to this planet because we were not going to win Cybertron back with the way the war was going. We must take this opportunity."

"I recommend that Barricade be placed in the brig as soon as the shielding is installed and we know it works," Prowl said. The shock Prowl had been feeling had gradually been replaced by a swirl of anger, and Bluestreak could feel Prowl building walls around anything to do with Barricade in his spark. "We should interrogate him once he's awake to see if he knows anything more about the plans for this weapon."

"That sounds good to me. He should get a mode lock, too," Ironhide said, nodding at Prowl.

Red Alert finally huffed in a way that sounded satisfied. "That's the first sensible thing I've heard all morning," he said.

The Prime put his hands flat on the table. "I believe that's everything?" he said. When everyone nodded, he said, "Good. **Now** the meeting is adjourned. I'll be in my office. Ironhide, with me, please."

As everyone started to leave, Jazz pointed at Bluestreak and Smokescreen. "You two stay here for a minute. We'll do your debrief here once me and Red have looked over the report from Ratchet on both of your processors." He followed Red Alert out of the meeting room, leaving the three Praxians alone.

"I'll be in my office looking over the information Wheeljack is sending me," Prowl said, standing up and grabbing his data pad. He stood behind Bluestreak's and Smokescreen's chairs, looping an arm around both of them and pulling them in for an embrace. "I know I said this when you first arrived back on Skyfire, but I am **very** happy that you are both safe."

Bluestreak grabbed Prowl's hand and looked up at him. "Prowl, look," he said. "We're back safe because of Cade. And because of Starscream and his trine, which feels pretty weird, but mostly because of Cade." Bluestreak brushed at the walls that Prowl had built around the Barricade-shaped hole in his spark, and felt Prowl stiffen. "I know you're still angry at him but... He's here, and he's alive, and he **saved** us. Please..."

Please what? Bluestreak didn't even know what he was asking for. He knew Prowl was still angry at Barricade even after all of this time. He could feel it whenever Barricade was brought up: a tired frustration that never seemed to change or get better. It wasn't fair to ask Prowl not to be angry. Maybe he was just asking Prowl for permission for him to be relieved that Barricade was still alive, after all this time.

As Bluestreak struggled for more words, Smokescreen twisted in his chair to look at Prowl. "Bluestreak's right. He **did** save us. In fact, the whole thing was Barricade's idea." Smokescreen smiled at Bluestreak and gave him a quick pat on his thigh. "While he was doing the false interrogation on me, he said that he couldn't trust Bluestreak to shoot him. So he asked me to do it, and I agreed. When he came into the cell room and used the key word we'd agreed upon – gamble – I knew that the plan was on." Smokescreen looked up at Prowl again, and his voice was calm and mollifying, backed by a wave of peace over the bond. "It's **all right** that you're still mad at him. But we **are** here because of him."

Prowl relaxed slightly, the anger dimming in strength. "I know," he said. "It's just such a shock that he's still alive, and now... He's here, and..." Prowl glanced at Bluestreak and pressed his lips into a thin line, his faint anger shifting to anxiety. "I think I just need time to think, but right now I have work to do." Over the bond, Bluestreak felt Prowl shift into 'work mode,' his processor already queueing up calculations and other analyses. Prowl kissed them both briefly. "I'll see you later. Try to get some recharge?" Then he turned and left the meeting room.

Bluestreak stared after him, feeling his wings drooping. "I know he's still mad at Cade, but..." Bluestreak crossed his arms on the table and buried his helm into his arms. "It's been over a century, Smokey. And now Cade's here, and **alive**! Why can't Prowl just..." His words failed again, and Bluestreak's engine whined.

Smokescreen rubbed Bluestreak's back between his door wing hinges. "You were never as upset at Barricade as Prowl's been. And you've had a whole extra day to come to terms with the fact that your old ex-bond mate is still alive," Smokescreen said. "Maybe he just needs time."

Bluestreak sat up again and leaned into Smokescreen's embrace. Smokescreen was projecting comfort and reassurance, but behind that was... **Oh.** Bluestreak twined his fingers with Smokescreen's. "I'm sorry it's not one of **your** bond mates, Smokey," Bluestreak whispered.

At that, Smokescreen laughed. It was one of his true, pure laughs that never failed to speed the spin of Bluestreak's spark. "Oh, beautiful," Smokescreen said, tipping his helm so their chevrons chimed together. "That's nothing for you to be sorry about. I'd be lying if I'm not just the tiniest bit envious that you got your bond mate back, but..." He kissed the tip of Bluestreak's nasal ridge before adding, "If you're happy Barricade's still alive, then that makes me happy, too."

Bluestreak could almost feel himself melting into Smokescreen's touches. Fatigue pulled at his whole frame, making every movement feel heavy. When was the last time he'd gotten proper recharge, and not just sitting in stasis lock? "Thanks, Smokey," Bluestreak murmured.

A clatter of a data pad hitting the table made Bluestreak and Smokescreen sit up alertly, just in time to see Jazz climbing into a seat across from them. Beside Jazz, Red Alert also sat down, already glowering at them suspiciously. "Thanks fer waitin'," Jazz said with a wide smile. "Now, let's start from the beginning. When did you first realize there were Decepticons at the warehouse?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking love writing Wheeljack. 😂


	55. Defection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak realizes that Prowl may have a very different view of things than he does.

Bluestreak staggered into the living area of his trine's quarters, stretching his arms and wings out as he walked. He still felt tired, even though his HUD informed him that his power was up to acceptable levels, and it had been almost a whole day since he'd collapsed into their berth alongside Smokescreen.

Then again, it wasn't like he'd recharged terribly well. He kept being jolted awake with the sudden memory of seeing Barricade's face hovering over his, and remembering that his ex-bond mate was alive. After several repetitions of falling offline, dreaming about Barricade, and then being startled back online in a panic, Bluestreak decide to just get up.

No sense in lying about in the berth if it wasn't doing him any good.

Smokescreen was sitting on their couch, leaning heavily against Prowl. Prowl was tapping away at a data pad, while Smokescreen's helm lolled back on the couch, his optics closed. When Bluestreak walked into the room, Prowl looked up, and Smokescreen opened his optics.

"I hope you rested well, Bluestreak," Prowl said. Bluestreak could sense Prowl reaching out to him through their connection, examining his mental and physical state.

"Wow, you were out long enough," Smokescreen said. He shifted slightly, pulling Prowl against him more tightly to make room for Bluestreak on Prowl's other side. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I still feel pretty tired, but my energy levels are reading as fine," Bluestreak said with a shrug. He sat on the couch next to Prowl and accepted the kiss that Prowl pressed to his cheek. "I decided to just get up rather than trying to force myself to recharge any longer."

"I've heard that's a side effect of stasis rods," Prowl said. He rubbed his fingers against the spot on Bluestreak's neck where the rod had been pressed into it; Bluestreak had noticed in the wash rack mirror that his neck cables were slightly discoloured there. "It disrupts your internal diagnostics for a while, giving you false readings." He fixed Bluestreak with a concerned look. "If you feel tired, you should recharge more."

"It's ok, Blue," Smokescreen said, closing his optics again. "Prowl's just being overprotective again. I got up a few hours before you. I'm feeling tired too, but if I'm still functioning, you should be fine."

Prowl's engine grumbled. "If either of you still feel like this tomorrow, return to Medical to get checked out." When Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side and cracked open his optics to look at him tiredly, Prowl added, "That's an order."

Smokescreen chuckled and closed his optics once more. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant Gorgeous," he said.

With a smile, Bluestreak snuggled into the couch and let his optics float closed. The couch wasn't quite as comfortable as the cushioned berth, but Prowl was warm against his side, and Prowl's rhythmic tapping on his pad was soothing. Over the bond, he could sense Prowl's processor cycling through some calculations, his emotional processes sidelined by his work. Meanwhile, Smokescreen was slowly drifting back into an idle state, his contentment and relief at being back home with his bond mates swirling through the connection.

It would have been easy for Bluestreak to fall back offline. After all, he **did** feel tired still. He was safe again, he was with his trine, and he needed the rest.

But every time he felt himself falling offline, he pictured a golden face with scarlet optics, looking down at him with a tense expression.

 _Barricade_...

Bluestreak opened his optics and pulled the toy tankformer out of his subspace. Jazz had returned it to him after their debrief, along with the one-shanix chip that he gave to Smokescreen. The items had been in Barricade's subspace when he was searched, and both Praxians had accepted their items gratefully.

After turning the toy around and around in his fingers several times, Bluestreak finally glanced at his bond mate. "Prowl?"

At Bluestreak's question, Prowl tensed. If Bluestreak hadn't been sitting right beside him, their legs and shoulders and hips touching, he might have missed it, but the subtle shift in Prowl's posture was easy to detect sitting so close to him. Not to mention the wall that Prowl suddenly threw up on the bond. "Yes?" Prowl replied frostily.

Bluestreak turned to look at Prowl. His bond mate's optics were still fixed on the data pad in his hand, but Bluestreak could tell that he wasn't seeing anything on it. "Did you want to talk about Barricade now?"

Prowl hesitated, his jaw tensing and his optics narrowing slightly. Then he lowered the data pad and looked at Bluestreak. "I am thankful that he was able to free you from Decepticon custody," Prowl said, his tone very formal.

"I helped," Smokescreen said, lifting a finger in the air, his optics still closed.

A flicker of a smile passed across Prowl's face before he continued. "I am thankful that he was able to free you from Decepticon custody, with Smokescreen's assistance," Prowl said. When Smokescreen nodded, Prowl looked back at Bluestreak. "I have also read your accounts of how you were treated, and..." Prowl's voice faltered, the block wavering enough for Bluestreak to feel a flash of horror before it was re-established. "Vortex is another Decepticon interrogator who is known to us. We have accounts of how he handled Autobots. Had he been the one to handle your questioning, I..." His voice crackled. "I am grateful that Barricade apparently insisted on handling both of you, in order to keep you away from Vortex."

Bluestreak remembered the cackle of delight that Vortex had given once he realized that Bluestreak and Smokescreen were bonded, and he shivered. "Yeah," he said. "Me too." He pulled a vent, refocusing himself. "But what about Barricade?"

"What **about** him?" Prowl asked, his voice instantly becoming sharp. "For the moment, he is a prisoner. He is a Decepticon, and his very presence on this planet is a symptom of a much larger problem for us: the fact that the Decepticons were successful in following us here, and now we are in danger. This whole **planet** is in danger." Prowl brought his data pad up and stabbed at it a few times. "My first focus is on doing what I can to mitigate that danger. Any other consideration will have to come later."

Smokescreen's hand shifted to rest on Prowl's thigh. "That's fine," Smokescreen said, his tone gentle. "I don't think there's any rush for you to come to a decision about how you feel."

With a visible effort, Prowl collected himself. "Of course." He looked at Bluestreak, and a flash of contrition washed into the bond. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's just been... a lot to take in."

"I understand," Bluestreak said. "I think I felt the same way."

As Prowl looked back down at his data pad, Smokescreen sent Bluestreak a warning nudge across the bond and a text ping. _Don't push him. He needs to work through this himself, at least at first. Give him time, Blue._

Bluestreak vented again, then nodded. He knew he liked talking out how the felt about things, both to keep his processor from going in circles and to help him figure out his own desires, but Prowl preferred to work things through on his own. Smokescreen was right; Prowl just needed the time to do that.

Bluestreak was just starting to drift into an idle state once more when he received a priority comm. "Ratchet to Prowl and Bluestreak. I wanted to let you know that we've installed the repulsor field generator on Barricade, and it looks like it works."

Prowl was tense again as he replied to Ratchet. "Thank you, Ratchet. Is there anything else?"

Ratchet hesitated. "He's awake, and we're about to move him down to the brig. Optimus and Jazz will be there in a little bit to question him. The Prime asked me to see if you wanted to speak to him, too. He thought that-"

Bluestreak sat up straight. "Yes, sir," Bluestreak said. "I **do** want to talk to him!" He couldn't suppress the excited twirl of his spark at the thought of finally talking to Barricade, for real, without having to maintain the ruse of an interrogation. He turned at looked at Prowl, who was staring off into the middle distance, his face expressionless, his block on the bond as strong as before. "Prowl?" Bluestreak asked.

"Optimus also thought some of the information Barricade might provide will be useful for you, Prowl," said Ratchet.

Prowl grimaced for a moment before schooling his expression again. "Very well," Prowl said. "We'll be there shortly. Prowl out."

"I take it Barricade's online again?" Smokescreen asked as Prowl stood up abruptly and deposited his data pad on the desk.

Bluestreak nodded. "Yeah. We're going to go talk to him."

Smokescreen sat up and leaned forward, his gaze intent on Prowl. "Are you going to be all right? Did you want me to come along?"

Prowl paused by his desk, his back to his bond mates. His door wings flicked up and down indecisively for a moment before he turned to look at them. The block he'd placed on the bond parted slightly, and a waft of anxiety floated through. "I don't think that's necessary," Prowl said. "I'm not looking forward to this but... I'll be fine." He vented softly. "The Prime wants me to be there."

Smokescreen stood up and crossed the room to Prowl, collecting him in his arms. "Let me know if you need anything," he said, kissing Prowl. He turned and kissed Bluestreak as well. "Either one of you. I'll be right here."

Prowl nodded curtly, then opened the door to the hallway.

Smokescreen caught Bluestreak's hand as he made to follow Prowl, and pulled him close. "I know he's feeling touchy about this right now," Smokescreen said quietly. "I'm hoping it's just because he needs time to work through this."

Bluestreak nodded. "I hope so, too," he said, and gave Smokescreen a quick hug. Then he hurried to catch up with Prowl.

By the time they reached the brig, Prowl's face had become an impassive mask again, but his emotions twisted and warred inside him. Bluestreak put up a partial block of his own to keep Prowl's strong feelings from affecting his own. This was the first time Bluestreak would really be able to speak to Barricade in over a century, and Bluestreak didn't want Prowl's internal conflicts from affecting his own feelings towards Barricade.

Bluestreak was having a hard enough time deciding how he should feel about Barricade being alive. He didn't need Prowl's confusion adding to his own struggle.

Ratchet was inside Barricade's cell, looking intently at a hand-held monitor that was plugged into Barricade's medical port. Brawn and Trailbreaker stood just outside the cell, rifles in their hands and optics fixed on the mechs inside. Bluestreak knew that Trailbreaker was probably there so that he could place a force field around Ratchet to protect him in case the prisoner ( _Barricade!_ ) did anything to threaten him.

But Barricade did not look like he was presenting any sort of threat. His optics were downcast, and his door wings drooped down against his back. He sat hunched on the slab inside the cell, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together between his legs as he submitted to whatever scans Ratchet was performing.

"It looks like the shielding is holding as intended," Ratchet said, disconnecting his monitor from Barricade's ports. "As far as Megatron is concerned, you're in stasis, or dead, so he can't get a lock on your spark signature. But neither will we, so that's one of the reasons you've got a tracking collar. The shielding's also blocking your comms and pings, and some of your diagnostics, and a few other basic functions, like temperature regulation and recharge initiation. We'll have to give you a daily patch just so you can get into recharge. Nothing much to be done about that, I'm afraid." As Ratchet started putting his gear back into its carrying case, he added, "And you can't get close to Megatron. If you get into close proximity to him – say, within a klick or two – the protection provided by the shielding will be negated."

"Thank you," Barricade said. "This is still a huge improvement over what I was dealing with before." He lifted his helm and looked up at Ratchet. "And I have no intention of going back to the Decepticons. This is the first time since the start of the war that I haven't felt frightened that Megatron might kill me on a whim with the-" Barricade suddenly cried out, his hand going to his chest as he hunched over again.

Ratchet immediately went down to one knee beside Barricade, his hand on his back. "I was going to warn you about that next. I've only been able to block Megatron from killing you with that shield I put in place. But that won't do **anything** about the part of the code that prevents you from talking about it. Understand?"

Barricade nodded, slow straightening up once more to look at the doctor. "I understand," he said in his rough voice.

As Barricade spoke, Bluestreak could feel another flurry of confusion from Prowl. Of course; this was the first time Prowl was hearing him speak. Barricade sounded so different than the last time they'd all been together. His voice was grating, unrefined, a poor imitation of the rich baritone that it had been before.

But it was still undeniably Barricade.

Barricade glanced out of the cell, and his optics widened when he saw Bluestreak and Prowl standing just on the other side of the security field. "Prowl!" Barricade said, leaping to his pedes. He crossed the cell to stand in front of Bluestreak and Prowl, his gaze flicking from one to the other over and over again. Behind him, his door wings flicked up and down several times before he finally lowered them. "Bluestreak. I... I missed you both."

Before Bluestreak could reply, Prowl folded his arms under his bumper and flared his wings out to the side. "You made your choices, Barricade."

Barricade straightened and pulled his shoulders back. The gesture tripped memories of Barricade arguing with Bluestreak or Prowl, even when he knew they were right. Barricade would always pause with that sort of defiant look before folding and admitting he was wrong.

So Bluestreak was not surprised at all when Barricade held Prowl's gaze for several beats before nodding. "Yeah. I did. And... Not all of those choices were good ones." He dipped his door wings before adding, "It's still good to see you again, Prowl."

"I don't usually conduct interrogations with the family watchin'." Bluestreak turned around to see Commander Jazz and Optimus Prime walking into the brig as Ironhide took a position just inside the doorway.

"We aren't bonded anymore," Prowl said, still glaring at Barricade.

"Ah, ya know what I mean," Jazz said. He crossed his arms as Ratchet was let out of the cell by Brawn, and nodded at Trailbreaker as he saluted and left the room.

"I know that you asked us here, Prime, but... We can leave, if you'd prefer," Prowl said. He was still filling the connection between them with wisps of anger and sadness, but he seemed to have gotten himself under better control than a few minutes before. "I don't want to interfere in any way."

Jazz shook his helm, staring into the cell at Barricade. "Nah. The more the merrier, as the humans say."

"You are welcome to stay, if you wish." The Prime nodded at Prowl and Bluestreak. "I know you might find the interview useful. And, I was thinking that perhaps your presence may even make Barricade feel more comfortable."

"You're not going to hurt him, right?" Bluestreak asked. He didn't know much about how the Autobots interrogated their prisoners, but it probably wasn't pleasant. Bluestreak flattened his wings to his back in a deferent gesture. "I know he's a Decepticon, sir, but please..."

"I have no intention of causing any harm to Barricade," the Prime said. "We simply want to ask him some questions about why he's here, and what other information he can provide for us."

"Don't ask him anything about the loyalty microcode," Ratchet said, waggling a finger first at the Prime, then at Jazz. "If you pressure him into that, you'll probably end up offlining him from the pain."

"No problem, doc," Jazz said. "Nothin' about the code. Got it." Jazz strolled right up to the security field opposite Barricade and put his hands behind his back. The Commander was just slightly shorter than Barricade, but even though he had to look up at him, he seemed to tower over him. Maybe it was because Barricade had lowered his wings as low as they would go. "But let's start with why you're here in our brig... On your own accord, apparently."

Barricade's helm jerked slightly and he glanced at Ratchet. "Aside from... um, looking for a way to deal with that **thing**..." Barricade grimaced slightly and rubbed at his chest before continuing. "I'm here because I no longer want to be a part of what Lord Megatron has planned. I haven't for a while, but his current plan is not anything that I want to be involved in." He looked from Jazz to the Prime, lifting his wings a bit. "I don't know how much information Commander Starscream gave you about the cyberforming project."

"We know about Megatron's plans," the Prime said gravely. "We will do anything we can to stop him from reformatting the Earth."

Barricade nodded. "Pretty much all of the Decepticons were on board with using that technology to revive Cybertron. I mean..." Barricade glanced at Prowl before continuing. "The rationing and the shutdown of Vector Sigma was one of the main reasons I joined the Cybertron First movement." Barricade bowed his helm. "And the cybermatter technology was supposed to put that all right again. It was supposed to fix the planet and make it good for us again." He shook his helm. "But using the technology on another planet in a way that would damage it, a planet that's done nothing to us... I'm not the only Decepticon who wants no part of that. Commander Starscream's against it. So's Hook, and Octane, and Acid Storm, and Loudpedal, and... Well, I think Commander Soundwave is, too, but he's sort of hard to read." He shrugged. "I think Lord Megatron's lost the thread. I think he's lost sight of why we were fighting in the first place. And... I don't want to be a part of that." He looked up, meeting the Prime's gaze unflinchingly. "The war has done enough damage to our own planet. I don't want to see another planet destroyed, and I'll do anything to make sure that it doesn't happen. I want to help set things right again."

The Prime nodded. "That is a very good and noble view to have, Barricade."

Barricade lifted his wings, standing at attention as he looked at the Prime. "So I am officially asking for asylum from the Decepticons, and am offering my assistance to the Autobots, in whatever way I'm able, to stop the destruction that Lord Megatron is trying to cause on this world." Bowing his helm, Barricade went to one knee, and said, "Please, let me serve you in any way I am able, my Lord."

Bluestreak's spark fluttered alongside his wings at the swell of excitement inside him. Barricade was alive. Barricade was **here**! Barricade was joining the **Autobots**! Bluestreak didn't know how often he'd dreamed about this possibility, and here it was happening right before him!

But as Bluestreak's delight grew, there was a surge of anger building in Prowl, overriding all of the confusion and worry that he'd been feeling earlier. As soon as Barricade finished speaking, Bluestreak felt that anger erupt out of Prowl with a snarl of his engine. "No!" snapped Prowl. He ignored the surprised look he received from the Prime and Jazz, and instead strode up to the security field and stared at Barricade, who quickly rose to his pedes again. Prowl's wings trembled behind him in barely-restrained rage. "No! You do **not** get to do this!"

"Prowl, wait," Bluestreak said, putting his hand on Prowl's shoulder as if he could hold Prowl's words inside him. Bluestreak knew Prowl was angry at Barricade still, but the rage that suddenly boiled inside his bond mate felt very different than the tired frustration that had coloured Prowl's feelings about Barricade for so long.

 **This** wasn't what Bluestreak had dreamt, back when the war was new. In his daydreams, Barricade would reverse course and come back to him and Prowl. Barricade would be at their sides once again, and everything could go back to how it was.

...except now there was Smokescreen, standing alongside him and Prowl. Now there was the fury ripping through the bond from Prowl. None of that had been part of Bluestreak's dreams of reuniting with Barricade at the beginning of the war.

As Bluestreak processed that realization, Prowl angrily shook off Bluestreak's hand. He pointed at Barricade, his fingertip creating sparks where it touched the security field. "You helped destroy **everything** we had, along with your 'Lord' Megatron." Prowl's pursuit engine snarled in counterpoint to his words. "You helped ignite the war that has torn our civilization apart. You helped further the destruction of our planet. You..." His voice crackled. "You betrayed the trust that Blue and I gave you." Prowl flared his wings out again and drew himself to his full height. "You don't get to waltz in here and just ask to be forgiven like nothing happened!"

Barricade's hands made fists at his side and his wings flared out behind him. "I am not asking to be forgiven," he said, his rough voice carefully measured and even. "I'm not. I'm not even sure I deserve that. I know what I've done. All I'm asking for right now is sanctuary, and a chance to help fix things." He pressed his hand to his chest again for a moment and pulled a vent of air before continuing. "And... You're right. I did a lot of things that I can't ever take back. So all I can do is try to fix them."

Prowl shook his helm slightly and crossed his arms, looking away from Barricade. "Some things can't be repaired," Prowl said flatly.

Barricade tried to reach through the security field towards Prowl, only to snatch his hand back when he was shocked by the glowing wall. Instead, Barricade held his hands out to his side imploringly. "Prowl, my fight was **never** with you and Blue. I did what I could to protect you! Do you know how many times I fed our infiltrators false information to protect you? How many plots I foiled to make sure they didn't kill you?" Barricade moved to the side, trying to draw Prowl's gaze. "I thought Blue was dead, and I thought you'd given up on me. But I still tried to protect you because I..." Barricade's voice faltered slightly when he saw Prowl's frame tense. "I still tried to protect you even though it could have gotten me hauled before Lor- before Megatron. I **never** wanted to see you or Blue hurt."

Prowl finally turned to look at him again. "Is that supposed to impress me?" he growled.

"Prowl." The Prime's large hand landed on Prowl's shoulder, startling him into silence. When Prowl looked up at him, the Prime said, "Perhaps having you here was not a good idea, after all. I think that you should step away for now." His deep voice was calm, and Bluestreak could feel it cutting through Prowl's anger like a hot knife. "We can give you a report on whatever information we obtain later."

At the Prime's obvious dismissal, Prowl's optics widened. Bluestreak felt Prowl's anger twisting, becoming embarrassment and frustration, before Prowl threw a solid block up on the bond. Prowl straightened and gave the Prime a formal salute. "Yes, sir," Prowl said. Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the brig without another look behind him.

Bluestreak hesitated, his attention torn between Prowl and Barricade. His optics met Barricade's. "Cade..." Bluestreak said, not sure what else he was going to say. Apologize for what Prowl had said? Defend Prowl's anger? Neither action felt right, and both actions felt right.

Barricade looked at Bluestreak for a moment before flicking his helm towards the doorway. "Go on," Barricade said quietly.

Lifting his wings, Bluestreak nodded, and then ran after Prowl.

He caught up with Prowl just before the ramp to the next deck. "Prowl, please... Wait," Bluestreak said, grabbing at Prowl's hand.

Bluestreak was dragged along for a few steps before Prowl finally stopped and turned to look at him. "What?" Prowl asked. His face was a stony, expressionless mask again, but his door wings quivered behind him.

"Why are you acting like this?" Bluestreak asked. "Barricade's **alive** , and he's trying to make things right. Why won't you-"

Prowl's grasp on the block slipped, his agitation slipping through before he could reinforce his control. "What don't you understand?" Prowl asked, his voice sharp. "The Decepticons have destroyed everything, and he was a part of that. He helped make it happen." Then, Prowl's mask seemed to crumble, and his wings dipped low. "You almost **died** , Blue," Prowl said, his volume lower and his voice crackling with static. "I almost lost you because of what the Decepticons did, and he was a part of that."

Bluestreak stepped close to Prowl and grabbed both of his hands. "I know that. But I'm the one who almost died, not you. And I **didn't** die... I'm right here."

"But if you had died, **I'm** the one who would have been alone," Prowl said, his icy blue optics flicking back and forth across Bluestreak's face. "If you had died, I would have..." He hesitated and glanced away. "And it wasn't just you. My mentors, and yours... Our whole lives... Our **planet**...!" His voice crackled again. "There's no way I can ever forgive him for all of that."

Bluestreak projected as much calm and reassurance as he could, hoping at least some of it would get through the block that Prowl had up. "I'm not asking for you to forgive him, Prowl," Bluestreak said quietly. "I know he made some really, **really** bad choices. And I know it's a big shock that he's here. But can't you at least give him a chance? Just listen to what he has to say?" As Prowl scowled, Bluestreak squeezed Prowl's hands, encouraging Prowl to look at him again. Bluestreak ventured a smile when Prowl finally met his gaze. "I know a lot's happened. I know you've got a lot of things to think about. I do, too. But... It **is** Cade." Bluestreak spread his wings encouragingly.

Prowl's engine growled. "Barricade is gone. He left us behind when the Senate was attacked." Prowl's face snapped back into its expressionless mask. "That is a **Decepticon** in there, no matter what claims he's making about defecting," he said, pulling his hands free of Bluestreak's and pointing down the hall towards the brig. "Did you notice he's got fangs now? And talons? Those are the marks of a loyal, dedicated Decepticon soldier." Prowl's words became clipped again. "And remember that he was a renowned interrogator for the Decepticons... Or he was, up until we thought he'd died. He **tortured** Autobots, Bluestreak. You never saw the survivors' reports of the things he did. **I have.** "

Bluestreak gaped at Prowl for a moment before shaking his helm. "I... I know he did bad things, but-"

"So pardon me if I don't just welcome him back with open arms like you seem willing to," Prowl said. His expression wavered again for an instant, so quickly that if Bluestreak hadn't been staring at him he would have missed the flash of despair that crossed his face. Then it was gone, and the stony mask was back. "But if you want to forgive him for what he's done... I will not stand in your way." With that, Prowl transformed, roaring down the hallway away from the brig.

Bluestreak was still staring down the hallway in the direction that Prowl had driven when he received a ping from Smokescreen. _Hey, what's going on with Prowl?_

Opening a comm line with Smokescreen, Bluestreak pulled a vent. "Let's just say that the reunion between Prowl and Cade didn't go well," he said.

"Did Barricade say something to set him off?" Smokescreen asked.

"Not really." Bluestreak leaned against the corridor wall and put his face in his hands. "I mean... Cade wants to help the Autobots. Prowl kind of... went off on him after that."

"I see," Smokescreen said, and Bluestreak could feel him thinking. Then he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I suppose," Bluestreak said, dropping his hands to his side and looking up at the ceiling. "Jazz and the Prime are questioning Cade right now. I think I'll hang out here until they're done. I..." Bluestreak pushed aside the memory of Prowl's anger. "I still want a chance to talk to him... Without Prowl yelling at the same time."

"All right. I'll wait for Prowl to cool down a bit and then track him down to see if he wants to talk to me." Smokescreen sent Bluestreak a wave of affection. "I'll see you later, Blue. Love you."

"Thanks, Smokey. I love you, too."

Closing the comm line, Bluestreak leaned his helm back against the wall and closed his optics, waiting for the Prime and Commander Jazz to emerge from the brig where they were questioning his ex-bond mate.


	56. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak tries to bridge his past with his present.

It was almost two hours before Ironhide, the Prime, and Jazz emerged from the brig.

Bluestreak had taken up a position about a hundred meters down the hallway from the brig. He sat on the floor, his legs folded up to his chest and his arms resting on his knees. There was nothing to look at except the blank wall of the corridor across from him, but Bluestreak had more than enough to think about to keep his processor occupied.

Smokescreen had pinged Bluestreak about an hour after Prowl drove away in anger. _Found him. He was in one of the meeting rooms, holed up there with a stack of data pads. I don't think it's a good idea for me to force him into talking about this right now, so I'm just going to make sure he fuels, and then I'll leave him be._

 _Thanks. And sorry. I didn't mean to get him all riled up._ Bluestreak buried his face in his arms.

Smokescreen sent Bluestreak another wash of consolation. _Don't feel bad. You didn't rile him up; he did that himself. Let's just give him some time. He's had a lot of shocks over the past couple of days._

After signing off with Smokescreen, Bluestreak let his thoughts wander. He thought about his trine – his **current** trine, and how well they all fit together. He remembered his previous trine, with him and Prowl and Barricade, and how perfectly they had complemented each other. But he also thought about the rough places in all of those relationships: Barricade and his recklessness, Prowl and his stubbornness, Smokescreen and his overly laid-back attitude... And Bluestreak, with his inability (or unwillingness?) to admit how he felt in his spark, even to himself.

He sat in the corridor and thought about how he could possibly fix things again, and whether he really wanted to... Especially in light of what Barricade had done: to him, to their trine... And to countless Autobots.

Prowl's words repeated themselves endlessly in his processor as he waited.

Bluestreak looked up when the Prime and Commander Jazz finally emerged from the brig, with Ironhide trailing behind the Prime. Bluestreak scrambled to his pedes as they approached him. "Sirs," he said, dipping his wings.

"Corporal Bluestreak," the Prime said, pausing in front of him. "I assume you're here to speak with Barricade." When Bluestreak nodded, the Prime continued. "I was expecting that. Brawn is still on duty; I advised him to give you as much privacy as he could. If you want the security field dropped, though, Brawn will need to be standing on watch."

"I understand, sir," Bluestreak said. "Thank you."

"He was real cooperative," Jazz said, waving a data pad in the air. "If his info checks out, hopefully we can get him out of the brig sooner rather than later." His smile faded a bit as he added, "I'll havta convince Red that it's a good idea first, though."

"I'm sure Barricade would appreciate anything you can do for him, sir," Bluestreak said. He gave the three officers a salute as they turned and continued down the corridor.

The inside of the brig was quiet. Bluestreak nodded at Brawn, who had returned to his seat at the monitor station by the door, before walking to Barricade's cell. Barricade was sitting on the slab, his face in his hands and his wings drooping tiredly. "I can come back later if you're too tired to talk, Cade," Bluestreak said quietly, not wanting to surprise him. It felt strange, being able to sneak up on Barricade.

Then again, it felt even more strange seeing Barricade alive.

Barricade's helm snapped upwards, and he sprang to his pedes. "Blue!" he exclaimed, rushing to the door of his cell. He stopped just short of the security field as if remembering at the last second that it was there. He smiled, relief shining through in his expression and the cant of his door wings. "I wasn't sure if I was going to get a chance to talk to you again." His wings dipped. "I wasn't sure if you'd **want** to talk to me."

"Of course I do!" Bluestreak smiled. "Besides, I'm off duty until tomorrow, and if I went back to our quarters I think I'd just recharge. If I could." He shrugged. "I think I'd rather be here."

Barricade ducked his helm slightly at that, and his wings flicked up and down uncertainly. "So, uh... How is Prowl?" He held out his hands imploringly. "I honestly didn't mean to set him off or anything, although... I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised."

"Smokescreen checked on him. He's still pretty upset, but we're giving him time to calm down." Bluestreak frowned, remembering the intense rage that he'd felt from Prowl. "And I don't think there's anything you could have done to stop him from being mad."

"Except not join the Decepticons in the first place," Barricade said quietly. One of his hands drifted up to touch the purple sigil pained on his chest. "I don't blame Prowl for being mad, to be honest." He crossed his arms under his front bumper and added, "I mean, I just assumed for a century that he'd broken the bond on purpose, because he didn't want to be bonded to a... To me anymore." He stared at the floor. "I don't blame him at all."

Bluestreak hesitated before speaking again, Prowl's accusations ricocheting around in his processor, accompanied by the memory of a wide-eyed mech in a mess hall staring at Bluestreak's wings in terror. "Prowl... And others, too... They said... They said that you..." Bluestreak flicked his sensor wings, trying to figure out how to ask what he didn't really want confirmed.

Barricade lifted his helm, watching Bluestreak as he tried to organize his thoughts. Finally, Barricade prompted, "What did they say?"

"They said you tortured mechs. Prowl said it, too. And... There was a mech in Rodion who was afraid of Praxians – afraid of **me!** – because you'd interrogated him. And Prowl said the same thing, that you tortured mechs. Forced downloads, processor scrapes. Stuff like that. And I know Prowl probably didn't tell me all of it. I'm sure he didn't, because he knew it would upset me." Bluestreak pulled a vent after the words spilled out of him, and waited for his processor to catch up before continuing. He looked at Barricade, meeting his gaze. "Is it true?"

Barricade's arms were still folded under his bumper, and he pulled them tighter against himself. "Some of it, probably," he said. "Vortex and I worked together a lot. He would... He would torture our prisoners to soften them up, and then I would do the downloads afterwards if he didn't get all of the intel we needed. I know sometimes Autobots would get mixed up about which of us did what, especially if they fought me, since that hurt them, too. Sometimes they'd fight me really hard, and their short-term memory would get scrambled." He scuffed his pede along the floor as if trying to scrape up non-existent dust from the floor. "I didn't do it because I liked it. Not like some of the others... Like Vortex, or Beastbox. It was just my **job**. I hated it, but it's what I was told to do. So... I did it."

Something in Bluestreak's spark dropped. "Just following orders, huh?" he asked flatly.

His wings flicking out to the side, Barricade finally looked up at him. "In the Decepticons, you learned really quick not to disobey orders," he said. He rubbed at his chest, his gaze turning inward for a moment. "It took me a while, but I started finding ways to strip the data I needed without causing too much pain or damage. But..." Barricade vented hard, like he used to do when he was frustrated. "I couldn't always do it. Sometimes there were too many officers watching a high-profile interrogation that I was doing, or another hacker was working on the same mech at the same time. But whenever I could, I'd blur their memories... You know, things like making the memory of the pain not quite as bad, or made it so it felt like a dream." He shrugged. "I didn't know if it helped, but I tried."

"But you still did forced downloads. Memory stripping. Hacking." Bluestreak paused, hearing his tone rise just like Prowl's had earlier, and he cycled his vents. "They said... They said you smiled when you did those things."

"I was **always** being watched, Blue," Barricade said, holding out his hands. "Especially when we were working. That stuff that I did to you – and I am **so** sorry – I **had** to put on a show like that, or I'd immediately get interrogated myself. They'd immediately start questioning my loyalty!" A hand flew to his chest again, and his voice started to sound strained. "Disobeying an order, or refusing one, meant being tortured myself. And leaving-!" His voice cut out into fragments, and he forcibly reset it with a visible effort and a growl from his engine before spitting out three more words. "Leaving. Meant. **Death!** "

Then, with a gasp, Barricade fell to his hands and knees, his vents running noisily.

"Cade!" Bluestreak cried, reaching towards his ex-bond mate. He stopped just shy of touching the security field. "Are you all right?"

"What's going on?" Bluestreak turned in time to see Brawn hurrying over to the cell. "What happened? Ratchet said to call him if the detainee collapsed, but..." He frowned as Barricade recovered enough to sit up and look at him. "Is this what collapsed looks like?" Brawn asked Bluestreak. "I'm not a medic!"

"I'm fine," Barricade said. His words still sounded labored, but his engine was slowly settling back into a quiet idle. He looked up at Brawn and even managed a ghost of his usual cocky grin. "And it's my fault anyway. I'll be all right."

Brawn wavered for a moment, watching as Barricade climbed back to his pedes, before nodding. "All right," he said, his tone dubious. He looked at Bluestreak again. "Let me know if that happens again and I'll call Ratchet."

Bluestreak nodded. When Brawn had returned to his desk, Bluestreak bit his lower lip. Now his processor was spinning with Prowl's words, paired with Barricade's version of events.

Maybe it was possible that both versions were true.

"Let's talk about something else for now," Bluestreak said, clasping his hands in front of him.

Barricade nodded. "All right." He looked at Bluestreak, his optics wandering to Bluestreak's wings. "I'm... glad you found another third," Barricade said hesitantly. "Smokescreen seemed pretty even-keeled when I... When I talked to him."

Bluestreak felt a smile flicker across his lips as he thought about Smokescreen. "He's been a good anchor for both me and Prowl," he said.

Silence fell between them again. Then, Barricade quietly asked, "So why did you think I was dead?"

Bluestreak's wings drooped slightly, hiding his bonding stripes. "Prowl showed me a still from a vid. We blew up a facility of some kind – Prowl never did tell me what it was – and you were seen outside of it. Then you ran in just before it was destroyed." Bluestreak recalled the image that Prowl had shown him, of Barricade glaring up at the ships, and realized that Barricade didn't have the scar on his face then. "Your frame wasn't found, but we assumed that you were killed."

Barricade frowned, then lifted his wings in realization. "Oh! Right. That must have been the lab outside of Slaughter City." He nodded. "That was the first time I'd used a ground bridge. We'd just got the technology established and had called for help. I know not everyone made it through the bridge on time before the lab went up."

"So you used a ground bridge to escape?" Bluestreak asked. When Barricade nodded again, Bluestreak said, "That makes sense! I don't think we'd even learned about the bridge technology yet; Smokescreen and his team brought the specs back on a mission a few years later."

Barricade tipped his helm to the side. "Smokescreen is the one who stole the specs from us?"

"Yeah. Well, him and his team," Bluestreak said. He briefly wondered whether he should even be discussing that information with Barricade, but immediately decided it didn't matter. That was ages ago.

Barricade snorted, all traces of the discomfort he'd been displaying earlier gone. "You have no idea how much that fragged off Lor- how much that fragged off Megatron. He was on a rampage for weeks after that."

Bluestreak frowned. "Is that how you got that scar?" he asked, touching his own cheek where Barricade's scar was.

"Oh. This?" Barricade turned his face to display the scar more clearly: a long, straight line of bad welds running from just below his right optic to his chin guard. "No. This was from a knife fight in Vos." At Bluestreak's started exclamation, Barricade shrugged. "It was just a stupid fight. I'd gone with Flywheels to get drinks at one of the bars that Megatron allowed to stay open. Someone said something to me, I said something back, and suddenly everyone was throwing punches everywhere. A few people pulled out knives, and the next thing I knew someone had sliced my cheek open." He touched the scar again, meeting Bluestreak's optics. "I didn't have you at my back this time to help me." 

Bluestreak rocked back on his heels, remembering the silly fight they'd gotten into at that bar in Praxus. How long ago was that? It felt like an eternity. "All this time and you're still getting into stupid fights," Bluestreak said.

Barricade laughed, a rough sound coming from his damaged vocalizer. "I suppose I am," he said. Then he glanced away again, his scarlet optics cast down towards the floor. "Maybe one of these centuries I'll learn my lesson."

It all felt so strange. One moment Bluestreak felt like he was talking to the Barricade he used to know, long before the war was even a possibility. Then the next he felt like he was speaking to Barricade's ghost, just a whisper of who he used to be. He pulled a vent of air before speaking again. "Will you?" Bluestreak asked. "Learn your lesson, I mean."

Barricade focused on Bluestreak again. "I really hope I already have," Barricade said, his wings dipping behind him. "I lost so much because of the mistakes I made. Maybe if I hadn't been so eager to join Megatron's inner circle after the Senate operation, Megatron wouldn't have-" He gasped, doubling over, his hand going to his chest. "Frag!"

 _Slag! The code!_ Bluestreak cast about again for something else to talk about, and settled on the changes in Barricade's plating. "So, uh, it looks like your engineers did the same sort of refit ours did to your armor, so you'd fit in on this planet," he said. Bluestreak relaxed when the pained expression on Barricade's face lessened, and he was able to straighten up. "It looks good on you."

"Thanks," Barricade said. "You look really good, too." He flashed Bluestreak a smile, his optics roaming over Bluestreak's frame. "I meant to tell you; I wasn't totally sure that it was you when I first saw you." He gestured at Bluestreak's chest. "The darker grey threw me off."

Bluestreak ran his hand down his hood, his finger brushing over the boundary between the darker and lighter silver. "I was pretty badly burned in Praxus," he said. "My paint nanites can't hold the silver colour anymore on my chest. This is the closest they can manage."

When Bluestreak looked back up at Barricade, the other Praxian's wings were flat against his back. "I am so sorry, Blue," Barricade said quietly. "If I'd known you were in Praxus, I..." He vented quietly before continuing. "Frag. I don't know what I could have done. Maybe I would have called you first, or... I don't know. I'm just... There are a lot of things I might have done differently." He half turned away, looking down and wrapping his arms around himself, before his voice fell in volume. "And like I said, there's a lot of things I'm sorry about." 

Bluestreak lifted his hand and almost touched the security barrier before he stopped himself. He paused, his hand hovering inches away from the shimmering field as he stared at the mech on the other side. Barricade pulled his arms tighter around him, his shoulders slumped and his armor pulled tight against his protoform.

Yes. Barricade had joined the Decepticons. He had fought on the side of the enemy for more than a century. Bluestreak remembered Barricade's flashing red optics, and his engine roaring in anger. He remembered the expression on Barricade's face when he fired his weapon into that mech's helm in the Senate chambers.

But Bluestreak also remembered how Barricade smiled when Bluestreak said how much he loved him. He remembered the wash of adoration and devotion from Barricade whenever he looked at Bluestreak. He remembered how Barricade would hold him tightly, whispering words of endearment into his audial as they drifted into recharge.

And he remembered the panic in Barricade's voice when he commed Bluestreak, right before the bombs started to fall in Praxus.

Yes, Barricade was a Decepticon. But right now, all Bluestreak could see was a missing piece of his spark who was hurting.

Bluestreak stared at Barricade for another moment before coming to a decision. He held up a finger. "Hang on," he said, and hurried over to the monitor station.

Brawn looked up as Bluestreak approached the desk. "All done?" he asked.

"Uh, no," Bluestreak said. "Can you let me into Barricade's cell?" When Brawn frowned, Bluestreak quickly added, "You can lock me in there with him, I don't mind. And you can watch what's happening on the camera." Bluestreak tapped one of the monitors and waited a moment before continuing. "Or you can stand outside. I don't really care. I just want to be in there with him, even if it's just for a few minutes."

"I don't know..." Brawn started to say.

"Please?" Bluestreak lifted his wings pleadingly. "This is my old bond mate, and... We haven't seen each other in a century." He leaned on the desk and pleaded, "I don't want to have to talk to him through a security field."

Brawn considered for a moment before standing up. "All right, fine. But you'll have to empty your subspace first," he said. "You can put everything on the desk here and you can pick it up again on your way out."

Bluestreak emptied his subspace quickly, putting what little he had on the desk: two fuel rations, a cube of medical grade energon Ratchet had instructed him to take, and the toy tankformer. Then he followed Brawn back to Barricade's cell, where Barricade was looking at them with wary curiosity in his optics.

"Step back and face the far wall, prisoner. Put your hands on the wall next to your helm," Brawn said, and waited until Barricade complied before lowering the security field. After Bluestreak stepped through, he raised the field again. "Just call when you're ready to leave," he said, and returned to the desk.

Barricade's door wings were trembling as he turned back around. "Blue?" he asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Bluestreak took one step towards Barricade and then held his arms out wide. It was a struggle to control his voice; static kept trying to creep in. "If you want..." Bluestreak said.

After taking one shuffling step towards Bluestreak, Barricade stopped again. "You don't have to," he said.

"No. But I want to," Bluestreak said, and spread his wings as wide as he could.

Barricade shuffled towards him again, then took a step, and then practically leaped into Bluestreak's arms.

As soon as their chests touched, Bluestreak closed his arms around Barricade. The dark Praxian was trembling beneath his hands. "I'm just happy you're still alive, Cade," Bluestreak murmured, letting his relief wash into the bond.

From Smokescreen he felt affection, twining through their connection. From Prowl, Bluestreak sensed nothing: the block was still up and as strong as it had been an hour before.

Time. Smokescreen said Prowl just needed time.

Barricade clung to Bluestreak, and his trembling intensified at Bluestreak's words. When Barricade buried his face into Bluestreak's shoulder, Bluestreak patted him on the back soothingly. "Cade? Are you all right?"

When Barricade nodded his helm, his face still pressed into Bluestreak's armor, Bluestreak realized that Barricade was sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't seen it, I was gifted with [fanart for this story from @Klick_tack](https://twitter.com/Klick_tack/status/1324989715724918786) on Twitter! 😍 I've embedded the art as a "cover" on the first chapter, with permission. They also did [some adorable chibis of Bluestreak's two trines](https://twitter.com/Klick_tack/status/1324990627126280192)! 💗 Thank you so much!


	57. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes evident that Prowl is struggling with recent developments.

Over the next few weeks, Barricade was slowly given some limited freedoms. Jazz had found no problems with the information that Barricade had provided, and Red Alert had grudgingly agreed to some of the changes Jazz suggested, under very specific conditions. At first, Barricade's stints outside of his cell were simply to visit the wash racks, and taking short walks to stretch his legs. Of course, he was always accompanied by an armed guard, and his mode lock was checked before every excursion. Red Alert also insisted that Barricade be fitted with a tracking collar.

Barricade accepted all of the restrictions and requirements without complaint. "Your security officer doesn't trust me. I totally understand that," Barricade told Bluestreak during one of Bluestreak's daily visits to see him in the brig. He rolled his shoulders, making his door wings bob up and down. "The only thing that's really bothering me is not being able to transform. I could really go for being able to open up my engine, but..." He shrugged. "I'm willing to wait, and do what I can to prove that I'm trustworthy." Barricade leaned against the wall of his cell and grinned at Bluestreak, his lips curling up in that familiar smile. "I just wish I had something more interesting to do than walk from here, to the wash rack, and back again. I think I could walk it now with my optics and other sensors all shut off."

Bluestreak knew that he probably couldn't convince anyone to allow the mode lock to be removed from Barricade's frame, but he started asking around to see what else Barricade might be permitted to do in order to stave off boredom. Within three days, Ironhide had worked out a schedule for Barricade to assist with some of maintenance around the ship, while still being accompanied by a guard. It was all dull, menial, low security risk labour - scrubbing the wash racks, changing air filters, maintaining the cleaning drones that swept the corridors – but it gave Barricade something different to do, and he thanked Bluestreak effusively for his assistance.

Now, Bluestreak tried to tell himself that he hadn't been advocating for Barricade simply because of their past relationship but – well, Bluestreak finally admitted to himself that wasn't true. (Smokescreen had spent a lot of time over the past decade getting Bluestreak to voice the things he wanted, even if just to himself. As a side effect of that, Bluestreak couldn't even lie to himself effectively anymore.) Bluestreak's efforts to get Barricade some more time outside of the brig were **absolutely** self-serving. He wanted to be able to spend more time with Barricade. He wanted to test the waters, to see if Barricade had changed... Or if he had.

And the more time Bluestreak spent with Barricade, the more he found himself falling for him all over again. His laugh, roughened by the damage done to his vocalizer by acidic gas during an Autobot attack on the base he had been working at. His cheeky grin, so similar to the one Bluestreak had grown to love. His playful sense of humour, muted now, but still recognizable.

While all of those things made Bluestreak's spark twirl happily, as if it recognized its old mate, a shadow of doubt still hung over every moment Bluestreak spent with Barricade.

Not long after he was given a regular work schedule, Barricade started being allowed to spend some non-working free time outside of the brig, such as visiting the mess hall to collect his fuel ration. No reason for the change was given, but based on the conversations Bluestreak overheard between Jazz and Barricade's guard detail, they wanted to see him interact with the rest of the crew, including the organics.

Sideswipe, one of Barricade's regular guards, told Bluestreak that he'd been advised to file full reports on anything Barricade said or did while outside of his cell. "I suppose it's like a test," Sideswipe said one evening as Bluestreak helped him sample his illicit distilled engex. "See how he treats others when he thinks he's 'off the clock.' Stupid, though, if you ask me. Of course he's going to know that's what's happening."

"Do you think he's lying about wanting to help us?" Bluestreak asked. "Do you think he's playing us?" The contraband engex had gone straight to his processor, and his thoughts had begun to swirl into dark places they probably shouldn't go. It had been so easy for Bluestreak to fall back into Barricade's orbit; his grin, his laugh, his sense of humour... Almost everything was the same. He was a bit quieter than he had been before the war, maybe even a bit more thoughtful, but Bluestreak could not help thinking those 'what if' thoughts. What if Barricade really **had** changed? What if things could be different this time? What if they could get back together and make it work?

On the other hand... What if Barricade was lying?

Bluestreak's spark twisted, remembering how Barricade had hidden his true intentions from him and Prowl so effectively.

But Sideswipe's answer to Bluestreak's question was swift. "Nah," he said, taking another sip of his sample. "He's totally on the straightaway. Besides, who would want to support someone who corrupted your spark just to keep you loyal?" He smacked his lips and held his drink up to the light, looking at it with a critical expression.

Bluestreak frowned into his drink, still not wholly convinced. "I guess," he replied.

Even though he still harboured doubts about his ex-bond mate's motivations, Bluestreak tried to find more time to spend with him. With each passing day, Barricade seemed more at ease, more content, and more himself. And as each day passed, Bluestreak felt his misgivings recede just slightly.

However, the more content Barricade grew, the more distant Prowl became.

One day after a long patrol shift, Bluestreak walked into the rec room to find Barricade sitting at a table, with Hound standing nearby holding a rifle. Bluestreak had noticed that as some of the Autobots became more comfortable with Barricade being around, a few of his guards had become a bit more lax in their attention: slinging their weapons across their backs instead of holding them ready, or even sitting down for fuel with him. However, Red Alert had chastised anyone who appeared to be less than ready to stop Barricade should he try something. Bluestreak suspected that Hound was one of those mechs who had been scolded, which wasn't surprising: Hound had known Barricade before the war. No wonder Hound was both holding his weapon ready and looking bored at the same time.

Sam and Carly were standing on top of the table that Barricade was sitting at. The humans had taken a liking to sitting in the rec room, chatting with whoever happened to come in. Today, Carly was peppering Barricade with questions.

"So when you're hacking someone's brain, can you specifically search for something you need, or is it just random what you get?" Carly asked as Bluestreak sat down at the table. She had a paper notebook in her hand, and was frantically jotting something down on it. "Are memories stored in things like folders, or is there some other way that they're laid out?"

Barricade's door wings twitched as he frowned. "Why do you need to know this?" he asked.

"I'm planning on double majoring in computer science and biology when I go to university next year," Carly said. She crossed her arms and looked up at Barricade. "I've been trying to wrap my head around how your brains are laid out, just so I can understand it. They're obviously some kind of computer, but any time I ask someone who might know I never get the information I need." She paged through her notebook. "Ratchet's always too busy. Wheeljack's explanations were all over the map and didn't make any sense. Hoist said he doesn't know anything about processor structure. Perceptor started talking about quarks and spin and that was just too much detail. I think Djsuro knew the most out of all the people I asked, but he kept lapsing into Povian, and I think I ended up missing some key parts."

Bluestreak nodded. "Djusro is the one who programmed Teletraan 1, you know," he said. He glanced up at one of the sensors placed on the wall that let the ship keep tabs on where everyone was. "Teletraan is probably the most advanced AI ever created on Cybertron. Sometimes I forget that it doesn't actually have a spark."

"I didn't know he programmed your ship," Barricade said. His frown deepened. "That helps explain why Ratchet assigned him to work on... me." He rubbed at his chest.

Carly shrugged, apparently unaware of Barricade's discomfort. "I know Djusro's brilliant! That's why I was asking him for help. But if I can't understand what he's saying, it doesn't help me at all." She looked up at Barricade expectantly. "So anyway, when I found out you hacked people for the Decepticons, I decided to try asking you! After all, who would know more about how processors are organized than a hacker?"

"Did you ask Smokescreen?" Bluestreak asked. "He might have studied stuff like processor architecture when he was working on his specialization."

Next to Carly, Sam seemed torn between wanting to run away from Barricade's frown, and wanting to protect Carly from whatever the dark mech might do. He nodded emphatically at Bluestreak's suggestion. "Yeah, maybe Smokescreen is a better person to ask and you could leave the **prisoner** alone," Sam told Carly.

Ignoring Sam's jibe, Barricade shrugged, his hand dropping from his chest back to the table. "No, it's fine," he said. "Let me think about how I can explain this." He tapped his fingers on his cube a few times. "So when you try to remember something – say, where something is – what do you search for to find it?"

Carly frowned. "We don't search. We just think about it and remember it, if we can."

"It's the same for us. We just think about it and then we remember it."

"But Wheeljack said you have indexes, memory files, things like that. Is that right?" Carly asked.

"Well, sort of. But individual memory files are just associated with the events that caused them, and with each other," Barricade said.

"But how do you **find** one? They must be organized in some way," Carly said insistently. When Barricade frowned again, Carly crossed her arms and looked up at him. "I think Djusro was trying to tell me that your memory works like an organic brain, which can't possibly be right. Right?"

"Hmm." Barricade stared at Carly. He looked down at her with his red optics for long enough that Sam started to tug on her arm and murmur something about having someplace else to be. Even Bluestreak was just about to try changing the subject when Barricade suddenly flicked his wings out and smiled. "Let's try this," he said. He put his fuel cube on the table and pointed at it. "Let's say I put this cube here, and then have to remember that it's there. I could remember that it's on a table, or in the rec room. But I might also remember that I was with you and Bluestreak when I put it down." He ticked off things on his fingers as he said them. "I might also remember that it's square, or half full. I might remember the taste of the fuel, or the fact that I put it here mid-afternoon."

Carly frowned. "How does that help you remember where it is?" she asked.

Barricade shook his helm. "It doesn't. But that's how it's associated in my memories. If I want to remember where I put the cube, I think about the cube and maybe when I put it down or who I was with. Then, by association, I would remember that I put it on the table in the rec room." He tipped his helm to the side. "If I put down five cubes all over the ship, I might not have those same associations. If I needed to remember a specific cube, the memories might be flagged a different way."

"Flagged... Like tagging?" Carly had been scribbling on her notepad as Barricade spoke.

"I guess it's sort of like tagging," Barricade said. "But specific associations for a memory might be weighted, according to relevance, importance, emotional context..." He glanced at Bluestreak. "Understanding the associations and weighting for something will help you locate a specific piece of information in someone's memories faster than going through them one by one, searching everything to do with... I don't know, a specific base or something." He flicked his wings again. "And as far as I understand... That's not too far different from how an organic brain works."

Carly nodded, still writing frantically. "Yeah, all right! That kind of makes sense. I think now I understand something that Djusro was explaining to me." She smiled up at Barricade. "Thank you!"

Barricade nodded. "You're welcome," he said, and he gave Carly another smile.

Sam pulled on Carly's arm again. "Come **on** , Bumblebee was going to drive us back into town, and I don't want to keep him wait-" He froze as he looked towards the door of the rec room. "Crap."

Bluestreak looked up as the Zehxaax herd ambled into the rec room. The group of seven Akkiel passed by the table they were sitting at, and two of the members tipped their antennae at them with a chirp. "Greetings/Good afternoon!" two of the other members called out, their vocoders speaking in perfect synch. The herd swept into the corner table they preferred, the one next to the large windows that looked out the front of the ship, and they settled around it with a soft rustling of chitin. A few members pulled out the leaf-wrapped nutrient packs the Akkiel consumed, and started sucking on them as the herd hissed at each other quietly.

"Ugh." Bluestreak looked back at Sam in time to see him visibly shudder. "Those bugs give me the creeps," Sam muttered.

"Stop that!" Carly jabbed Sam in the side with her elbow, hard enough that he grunted. "That's so rude!" she snapped.

Barricade frowned. "Akkiel are some of the most efficient workers in the galaxy," he said. "Their herd structure lets them get physical work done faster and more accurately than pretty much any other species. I don't see how that's creepy."

"They look like giant bugs," Sam said, casting another glance over at the Akkiel. "Huge, brightly coloured bugs."

Ignoring Sam, Carly looked up at Barricade. "Bumblebee was telling us that they need to travel in large groups like that. Is that true?"

"Well, yeah," Barricade said. "A single Akkiel isn't much of anything." He played with his fuel cube for a moment before continuing. "Most of the herds I've ever known had at least five members. Most of them had more. They're more stable that way."

Carly had flipped to another section of her notebook and was scribbling down notes. "So, more like Cybertronians with bond mates? They're more resilient in a group? Or... More like a trine?"

Barricade's fingers stopped moving on his cube, and his optics were fixed on a spot just next to his hands. "Yeah," Barricade said, his rough voice filling with just a hint of static. "Like a trine."

Without thinking, Bluestreak put his hand on Barricade's arm. When Barricade glanced at him in surprise, Bluestreak smiled and lifted his door wings.

His spark twirled just a bit when Barricade returned his smile.

Barricade glanced down at the humans again when Carly made a pleased-sounding noise. "That is so neat," she said, making a few more notes in her notebook. Then she looked at Sam. "I can't believe all you can see when you look at them are bugs."

"Well, just **look** at them!" Sam protested, waving his hands at the table full of Akkiel. "I can't believe that's **not** what you see!"

As Carly scolded Sam for his attitude towards the other aliens, with Barricade backing her up, Bluestreak glanced up to see Prowl standing in the doorway of the rec room. Bluestreak lifted his hand to his bond mate and sent him a sweep of greeting over the bond.

But Prowl's optics were fixed on Barricade. Prowl's door wings stood out rigidly from his back, and a frown was plastered across his face. Through the partial block that Prowl had up more often than not these days, Bluestreak felt anger and worry.

Then, without acknowledging Bluestreak's wave, Prowl turned on his heel and swept out of the room again.

"I think Prowl's been having a hard time sorting out his feelings," Smokescreen told Bluestreak later that night. Prowl was in his office again, having spent more time in there lately than in their quarters. Smokescreen leaned back on the berth, his arms pillowed behind his head as he looked up Bluestreak, who was straddling his hips to give him a cable massage. "His estranged bond mate has come back from the dead after almost half a century..." Smokescreen flared his plating out further as Bluestreak's fingers found a sensitive bundle of cables just under his shoulder plating. "Oh, yeah, right there," Smokescreen purred. He looked up at Bluestreak with his deep blue optics. "I mean, that would be a lot for anyone to deal with. I really think we just need to give him some more time."

"I know. I just wish he'd... I don't know, get over it already or something," Bluestreak said. "But I **know** that's not really fair." He rested his hands on Smokescreen's chest and looked down at him. Bluestreak carefully touched the edge of the empty place in his spark, just enough to sense the outline of the mech who used to exist there... The mech who was currently sitting in the brig. "But I'm having to sort things out, too, and you don't see me ignoring my mates while I do it."

"Good thing, too, for me," Smokescreen said, turning slightly to present his other shoulder. "Do the other side? This one's just as tight."

Bluestreak nodded, and delved his fingertips into the gap in Smokescreen's other shoulder. "I just wish I knew what he was thinking. I mean, **really** thinking, not just the fact that he's confused and worried and mad and all the other feelings he keeps bombarding us with." Bluestreak found the same tight bundle of wires and massaged it, drawing an appreciative groan from Smokescreen. "What do I do, Smokey?" he asked, frowning.

Smokescreen moved suddenly, grabbing both of Bluestreak's hands in his. "I'm willing to give him some more time. But if you want to get this resolved, there's really only one thing you can do," he said. "And that's talk to him, and ask him what he's thinking."

"Have you **met** Prowl?" Bluestreak grumbled. "Even when Barricade left us, it took us forever to finally sort out how we'd approach life as just a pair. And when I started seeing you, Prowl didn't want to admit even to himself that he was interested, too."

Smokescreen smiled. "Have you considered that maybe you're **both** a little reluctant to face how you feel about things?" He tugged Bluestreak's hands, pulling him down towards his face. "I seem to remember how you don't actually say things out loud until you say them by accident."

Bluestreak vented softly, then smiled. "You're right. I guess."

"You guess, huh?" Smokescreen laughed, his peals of laughter making Bluestreak's spark twirl. "Come here and let me see what else I can make you say." Then he pulled Bluestreak's face down to his and kissed him soundly.


	58. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Smokescreen confront Prowl about how he's been reacting to everything.

As Doctor Ratchet and the Povian coding specialist Djsuro sought a fix for the code that had infiltrated Barricade's spark and processor, Prowl worked with Wheeljack, Perceptor and their human allies to catalogue any suspicious activity that may have been caused the Decepticons.

Once the Autobots had advised their human allies to be alert for thefts of any sort of energy-producing components, the problem appeared even more daunting. There had been whole series of unsolved thefts going back months, spread out all over the globe. Because of their wide distribution, no one polity had linked the thefts in their jurisdiction to any other similar incidents... Not until Prowl started collecting the data and analyzing it.

The more Prowl dug into it, the more serious the issue became. In many of the thefts, there were reports of missing people, usually people who worked for the manufacturers or shipping companies from which the items had been stolen. Due to the nature of the missing items (high value and specialized use), many of the jurisdictions assumed that the workers had run off with the goods, perhaps selling them to foreign governments or on the black market. And due to distance, political differences, and secrecy, many of the jurisdictions failed to reach out for assistance from anyone else.

But once Prowl looked into all of the incidents, he found a relatively large number of missing humans. And in a very small handful of cases, the local enforcers made note of suspicious, greasy stains on the ground. Because most of the vehicles on the planet used carbon-based fuel, the stains were analyzed to see if it could be determined what sort of vehicle may have left the stains. It was hoped that it would give a clue as to what the perpetrators of the thefts may have used to transport the items away.

However, the Autobots were all too aware that a fully-charged blaster pulse, aimed at an organic about the same size as a Povian, would vaporize the organic, leaving only an oily black stain on the ground where they had been standing.

The revelation that the Decepticons were killing humans to get what they wanted was horrifying... But not unexpected. When asked about it, Barricade confirmed that Megatron's orders were that nothing would get in the way of them getting what they needed. Barricade hadn't been specifically aware of any organics who had been killed on this planet, but he was not surprised that it had happened.

Barricade was extremely forthcoming about anything he was asked, from details on how many troops Megatron had with him (far more than the Autobots had on Earth) to where their ship was located (in an orbit on the far side of the planet's moon: close enough to bridge to the planet's surface, but not so close that they had to maintain comms silence to avoid detection). He told the Autobots that the Decepticons had no idea where the Autobot ship was located, although he was fairly sure that Soundwave was working on finding it. He sketched out blueprints of the Decepticons' ship, explained their current command structure and gave detailed descriptions of the officers, and provided as much information as he could on what the Decepticons knew about the Autobots on Earth. Through his daily interviews with Jazz, Red Alert, and the Prime himself, Barricade provided a wealth of detail that all fed into the analysis and investigation Prowl was working on to determine where the Decepticons would strike next.

It was a task that Prowl had thrown himself into completely, working long hours and occasionally even recharging in his office. Bluestreak knew that Prowl had been gently reprimanded by the Prime himself for working so hard; one night the Prime even escorted Prowl back to their quarters himself. But instead of taking the time to relax, Prowl had simply plugged himself into the datanet at the desk in their quarters and resumed his work.

When Bluestreak asked him about it, Prowl always shrugged. "It is vital that we identify where the Decepticons might strike next, and, if possible, determine how much energy they've collected so far," Prowl said. "Not just for our own sakes, but for this whole planet."

"Surely Wheeljack or Perceptor aren't putting in these sorts of hours?" Smokescreen asked, his tone non-threatening. "I saw both of them in the rec room the other night, watching a movie with the Aerialbots."

Prowl's door wings flicked outwards as he grabbed a data pad from the desk. "What they choose to do when they are off shift is their own affair," Prowl said. "But I also have to ensure we have strategies in place in the event they discover where our ship is located, what to do if someone else is captured, what should be done if-"

"Maybe I could take some of that off your plate for you," Smokescreen said, smoothly interrupting Prowl's litany. He leaned on the desk and glanced at the pads still piled on it. "Surely I could handle some of that analysis work for you, like I did back in Iacon." He smiled at Prowl encouragingly, lighting up the bond with good cheer and positivity.

Bluestreak could feel Prowl wavering for a moment before he shook his helm. "Thank you for the offer, Smokescreen, but I really ought to do this myself. The Prime is depending on me." Prowl dipped his wings as he glanced at them both. "I'll be in my office late. You don't have to wait up." With that, he opened the door to their quarters and left.

While Prowl wasn't **specifically** avoiding his trine mates, there was a tension in their quarters that Bluestreak didn't remember ever experiencing. Prowl didn't join in Bluestreak's and Smokescreen's conversations unless he was specifically asked something, instead keeping to his own thoughts. He rebuffed their efforts to draw him into games, even ones that they knew he enjoyed. And when he did finally come to their quarters for a proper recharge, Bluestreak could tell that he stayed awake long after he should have slipped offline, his processor restlessly turning something over and over until the wee hours.

It was exhausting. And to Bluestreak, it felt eerily similar to the distance that Barricade had started building between himself and his bond mates just before the attack on the Senate.

When Bluestreak mentioned this to Smokescreen (one night after having just maybe a **bit** too much of the contraband engex that Sideswipe had been distilling in his quarters), Smokescreen harrumphed. "Yeah, all right," he said. "Enough is enough."

"What are you gonna do?" Bluestreak said, slurring his words slightly. This batch of engex had been more potent than he'd been expecting. He'd wanted to go see Barricade in the brig, but he decided it was a better idea to stay in their quarters, at least until the engex worked its way out of his system. "Don' make 'im mad, 'k?"

"Sorry, Blue. I might need to make him mad in order to get to the bottom of this. We need to find out what the problem is before it becomes a bigger one." He pulled the tispy Bluestreak against him and kissed the top of his helm. "Let me think about how to approach this and see how we can get him talking."

Smokescreen's reassurance did help, a bit. Bluestreak was sure that if anyone could get through to Prowl, it was calm, cool, and collected Smokescreen.

A few nights later, Bluestreak was dully flipping through movies that he'd already watched on the _Ark's_ entertainment network, while Smokescreen was sitting at the desk, a game of solitaire laid out in front of him. Right on schedule, the door beeped and opened, and Prowl rushed in.

"Hey, Prowl," Bluestreak said, sitting up on the couch and sending Prowl a hopeful burst of affection. "We were thinking of watching a movie tonight. Did you want to join us?"

"No," Prowl said. He paused, a familiar chill of anxiety wafting through the bond before he clamped down on it. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay tonight. I have a lot of work to do still, and I don't want to bother you by doing it here."

"It wouldn't be a bother, Prowl, and I know you're good at multitasking" Smokescreen said. He rocked back in the chair and gestured at his game. "I can move somewhere else if you want to stay here. We were thinking of rewatching one of those old historical romances you like." Smokescreen smiled broadly, casting a soothing mix of warmth and ease through the bond. "Maybe _Winds of Change_. That was a really good one. I know you mentioned how accurate it was to what really happened during the Sterling Wars."

Prowl had started sifting through the data pads that Smokescreen had haphazardly piled on the side of the desk, irritation filtering into the bond. "Yes, it was very accurate," he said distractedly. "Smokescreen, there was a report from our Paris contact from this morning laying here. Have you seen it?"

"I think I saw it somewhere," Smokescreen said offhandedly. Bluestreak saw him take a data pad from the desk and slip it into his subspace while Prowl was busy digging through a pile on the opposite side of the desk. "So, anyway, _Winds of Change_... I liked how the movie went into detail about all of the defections from the Tarnish armies, and from the Stanix ones. They must have traded an almost equal amount of troops back and forth." He hummed thoughtfully and rose to his pedes, seemingly ignoring Prowl as he started searching through another pile of pads. "Remember how we were debating why there were so few mechs defecting from the Decepticon ranks?"

Finally, Prowl hesitated, his wings rising slowly as he looked at Smokescreen. "What about it?" Prowl asked.

Smokescreen shrugged easily as he moved between Prowl and the door to their quarters. He gave Prowl a disarming smile. "I mean, I always thought it was so strange, how there were so many Autobots who defected to the Decepticons, but there were barely even a handful of Decepticons who came to the Autobots."

Bluestreak's optics widened. "Wait, there are Autobots who defected?" he exclaimed. He'd heard rumours, but...

Prowl's doorwings flicked outwards as he glared at Smokescreen. "That's classified information!"

Waving his hand in the air dismissively, Smokescreen said, "Like that matters now." He looked at Prowl intently, his demeanor shifting from chatty to serious in an instant. "The reason there were so few Decepticon defectors was because most of the Decepticons literally **couldn't** defect if they had that loyalty coding installed. If they even tried, Megatron could kill them. For all we know there were mechs who did try to defect, but they were killed by Megatron before they even had the chance."

His optics narrowing, Prowl's wings twitched downwards again. "What about it?" he asked. Irritation filtered through the block that Prowl had erected on the bond.

Smokescreen crossed his arms under his bumper and met Prowl's gaze unflinchingly. "I talked to Jazz yesterday. He said he recommended that Barricade be granted more freedoms, such as his own quarters. Jazz doesn't seem to think that he's a threat. But Red Alert countered that recommendation, apparently on advice from you." Smokescreen tipped his helm to the side. "I was just curious why."

Prowl's engine growled. "Jazz should not have given you that information," he snapped, and started searching through his pads again, his movements jerky and rushed. "Barricade is a Decepticon. He has still not proven himself to be trustworthy, to my satisfaction, or to Red Alert's. And until he does so, Barricade cannot be granted more freedoms. I don't see any reason to discuss this further." Prowl shoved another stack of pads aside. "Where is that pad?" he growled.

"The reason to discuss it further is because you've become a terror ever since one specific ex-Con made it clear that he would like to defect," Smokescreen said. "I want to talk about why that is."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Liar." When Prowl bristled at Smokescreen's word, Smokescreen twirled his hand once, and suddenly the missing data pad seemed to materialize in his hand. "Looking for this?"

"How did you-" Prowl reached for the data pad, but frowned when Smokescreen pulled it out of his reach again. "Smokescreen, I don't know what sort of game you're playing, but I don't have time for this."

"This isn't a game, gorgeous," Smokescreen said. He flipped his hand and the pad vanished again. "As the only certified mental health professional on the ship, I am more than prepared to place you on mandatory stress leave."

Prowl froze. "You wouldn't!" His block slipped, letting his simmering anger give way to shock and then annoyance. "I have too much to do to have you waste what little time I have in your misguided opinions. The Prime needs me to-"

"I've already talked to the Prime, and to Ratchet, since I'm not exactly an unbiased party," Smokescreen said. He wasn't blocking anything, but instead was filling the bond with waves of concern and care. "They have both given me the clearance to recommend that you be removed from duty if I believe you are near your breaking point."

As Prowl stared at Smokescreen in mute astonishment, Bluestreak realized he was perched on the edge of the couch, all of his cables and joints stiff with tension as he watched the scene play out before him. He had a sudden flash of memory, of Barricade staring at Prowl as Prowl tried to get Barricade to change his ways.

...Only this time, Prowl's role was the opposite of what it had been before. This time, Prowl was the one who was being confronted with the consequences of his actions.

Bluestreak bit his lower lip, afraid of saying anything that might tip the scales one way or the other.

Prowl finally scoffed. " **What** breaking point? I simply have a lot of work to do. And if you'll give me that pad I'll be able to finish one piece of it."

"You want it laid out for you? Fine." Smokescreen vented and started ticking items off on his fingers. "You're putting in double, sometimes triple shifts. You aren't recharging; I can feel how tired you are. You snap at almost everyone for the smallest things, including me and Blue, for no good reason. And your wings..." Smokescreen took a half step towards Prowl, but paused when Prowl flicked his wings outwards. "They hurt. You've been blocking it out, but I know they are hurting you. I can feel it through the bond when you do finally let yourself recharge." Smokescreen flooded the bond again with a gentle concern. "Actually, you're stiff and sore all over, just from how stressed you are."

Prowl's wings trembled before he let them droop. "Fine. Yes. I'm stressed, all right? Is that what you want me to say?" He glowered at Smokescreen, the block slipping once more to allow sorrow and frustration ripple through the bond.

Smokescreen took another careful step forward, and this time Prowl didn't react, except to watch him closely. "What I **want** is for you to tell us what's wrong," Smokescreen said, his voice low and smooth. "Every time you think about Barricade, you throw up blocks and shove me and Blue away. I don't think Barricade's going anywhere any time soon, but... Blue and I both want you back." Another step, and he was standing close enough to Prowl to touch, but Smokescreen kept his hands at his side. "We're your bond mates, Prowl. Please, tell us how we can help you."

Prowl's wings quivered again, rattling against his back, and he glared down at the floor. "There's nothing that can be done," Prowl said, static creeping around the edges of his words. "Barricade is back from the dead. The Prime won't send him away, and... Now we have to live alongside that... that **monster**."

"Do you really think of him like that?" Smokescreen asked. His voice was still quiet, and Bluestreak felt Smokescreen's spark wrapping Prowl's presence in a blanket of care. "I don't think you do. I've heard the way you talked about him before all of this started. I know how you feel about him. You're angry with him, but you never **hated** him." Smokescreen dipped his helm, trying to look into Prowl's optics. "Find your words, gorgeous. What's really going on?"

Prowl drew a vent of air, then let it out in a quavering gust. "I'm... I'm afraid." He fell silent, still staring at the floor, and Bluestreak could feel him thinking, feeling for what to say next.

"Afraid of what?" Smokescreen asked, gently insistent.

Another shuddering vent. Another rattle of wings on his back. When he spoke, his words were hesitant and soft. "I'm afraid of things changing between us. I'm afraid of what might happen." Then Prowl lifted his helm and looked at Bluestreak. "I'm afraid that he... Barricade... I'm afraid that he's going to take Blue away from m- ...from us."

"Prowl, no!" Bluestreak jumped to his pedes to rush to Prowl's side, but paused a few meters away when he received a warning ping from Smokescreen. Instead, he sent a swirl of reassurance to Prowl, pouring as much sincerity into their connection as he could. "Prowl, believe me, that would **never** happen!"

Smokescreen nodded. "You know that's true, Prowl," he said. He took another half step towards Prowl.

Prowl said nothing, but just stared at Bluestreak. The wall he'd built around him cracked, drenching the bond with a wave of sorrow and anxiety so strong it made Bluestreak's engine whine.

Smokescreen lifted his wings, and Bluestreak could feel him trying to drown out the worry from Prowl with comfort. "If anything, **I'm** the one who should be afraid of him taking both of you away from **me**." When Prowl looked at Smokescreen with wide optics, Smokescreen smiled. "After all, **I'd** be the fourth wheel."

The block Prowl had up had been crumbling as Smokescreen spoke, and it finally collapsed. A wave of worry and sadness poured out of Prowl, but a glimmer of hope sparkled amongst his emotions. Prowl shook his helm. "Smokescreen, no. No! We'd **never** let that happen," Prowl said. He looked at Bluestreak again. "Would we?"

"No, of **course** we wouldn't!" Bluestreak exclaimed.

"But I already **know** that," Smokescreen said. "I already know." With one final step, he finally closed the distance between him and Prowl. Smokescreen wrapped his arms around Prowl's shoulders as if he was something fragile, and kissed his helm crest tenderly. "But I'm not worried about that, because I can feel how much both of you love me. And surely, you can feel how much Bluestreak loves you."

As Prowl's gaze turned to him, Bluestreak leapt forward, putting his own arms around Prowl and Smokescreen. "I do, my light, you know that. I **know** you know it. Whatever happens with Cade, you'll still always be a part of my spark."

Prowl stiffened as Bluestreak said Barricade's nickname. "Barricade... He hurt you before," Prowl said. "You're so **trusting** , Blue. You accept everyone at face value, and... It could happen again." His optics flicked over Bluestreak's face searchingly. "I don't want you getting hurt, and if you get involved with him again..." He shook his helm. "He hurt you once, and I don't trust him not to do it again. If you spend more time with him, I..." Prowl's engine whined. "I keep thinking that maybe this time I'll be the one hurt, by losing you permanently." He squeezed his optics closed. "I know that you love me. I **know** that, but I can't help worrying that if your future has Barricade in it, then... Then my future might not have you." His words dissolved into feedback, and he choked back a frustrated sob.

As Smokescreen soothed Prowl with soft murmurs, Bluestreak tried to untangle what Prowl was worried about. Prowl had been upset with Barricade ever since he got involved with Cybertron First, and after the Senate. But after Praxus, his anger had sharpened and become more defined. Yes, he had been mad at Barricade for his part in the war, but mostly...

Mostly, Prowl was furious with Barricade for what had happened to Bluestreak.

Bluestreak hesitated, his thoughts drawn to the dark mech who was sitting in the brig at this very moment, alone. The hole in his spark, the hole where that mech should be, ached. Bluestreak wished he could go to him, make sure he wasn't alone, but there were regulations about visiting hours in the brig (regulations that hadn't been needed until Barricade came along). Yes, Bluestreak wanted to be there, and if those regulations weren't in place he might have been there now, instead of here in his quarters with his trine, because his trine didn't **really** need him, but Barricade did, and...

Huh.

Did Prowl have a point?

No. Bluestreak looked at Prowl's face, with his sorrowful expression and fallen shoulders. Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen, who was watching them both with close attention, his arms and his spark holding them both close.

Yes, Bluestreak missed Barricade desperately. But he also dearly loved his trine. And if it came down to it, if he had to choose...

Bluestreak drew a vent and narrowed the connection to his trine mates, knowing what turmoil his next words would cause inside him. He tipped his helm forward until his thick chevron chimed against Prowl's narrow one. "If you don't want me to spend time with Cade, I won't," Bluestreak said, and brushed Prowl's spark with reassurance.

Pushing Barricade away would hurt, but if it meant keeping Prowl from worrying, it was worth it.

But Prowl shook his helm again, his wings finally rising off his back and flaring out to the sides. "No. That's not fair to you," he said. "I know how badly you miss him. I remember how crushed you were – how crushed we both were - when he left us. And when we thought he'd died..." Prowl stared at Bluestreak intently, his ice-blue optics bright with emotion. "I know how happy you were when you found out that he wasn't dead, how happy you still are. And I know you still miss him. Here." He touched Bluestreak's chest, just over his spark chamber.

Bluestreak put his hand over Prowl's. "But if you're so worried about me being with him, I don't want to put you through that," he said.

"When we lost Barricade, I told you that I could never tell you what to do with your own spark." Prowl glanced down at Bluestreak's chest as if he could see through the plating. "I also said that I wouldn't have stood in your way if you wanted to re-establish your bond with him." A smile flickered across his lips. "I didn't think that it was a possibility at that point, of course, but... I **was** telling you the truth. And it's still true." Prowl looked at Bluestreak, and said, "Feeling you happy is what I want more than anything in the galaxy. I will not stand in your way if that's what you choose to do."

Bluestreak shook his helm in confusion. "But I'm already trined," he said. "And you know I won't leave you, or Smokey. I'm already bonded to two mechs, so re-establishing my bond with Cade is not even in the realm of possibility."

"Isn't it?" Bluestreak looked up to see Smokescreen smiling at him. "New bonds are formed **beside** the old ones. You've already proved that you've got room for three mechs in your spark. The only problem is that one of those bonds is broken." Smokescreen put his hand on top of Bluestreak's, sandwiching it between his hand and Prowl's. "It's possible to fix that hole in your spark now... If you and Barricade both want to."

Re-establish his bond! More and more often now, when he was talking to Barricade, he saw the mech he used to know: a brash mech who was determined, passionate, and quick to smile. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't thought about re-establishing the bond that used to exist between them, but it always felt like wishful thinking.

After all, he was already trined. He had two other wonderful, caring, loving mechs in his spark, mechs who he adored as much as they loved him. Mechs who had never left him behind.

It didn't seem like there should be room for another mech.

Except Smokescreen was right. Even though he could feel his trine mates, he could also feel a space in his spark where he still yearned for what was missing.

"But... But..." Bluestreak gaped at Smokescreen, then at Prowl. From Smokescreen he felt fond amusement (probably at the riot of realization that had crossed Bluestreak's face as he put everything together) and relief (likely from finally getting Prowl to admit why he had been so distant and snappish these last few weeks). From Prowl he felt devotion twined closely with worry for having given Bluestreak permission to do what Prowl had been fearing he might: rebonding with Barricade.

"I love you, Bluestreak," Prowl said. "And if having Barricade back in your life is what you want, then... I want it for you, too."

Bluestreak nodded, and then quickly shook his helm. "I... I don't know. I have to think about this," he said. "But... I promise I'll warn you before... before I do anything."

"And that brings me to my request," Smokescreen said. "Actually, it's more of a demand." He fixed Prowl with his gaze, ensuring the white and black mech was paying attention, before looking at Bluestreak. "No more stewing. No more secrets. No more nursing hurts that the others aren't even aware of." He gave Prowl a tiny shake before continuing. "We need to talk, as often as needed, to make sure these hurts don't build up again. We're trine. We're here to help each other, and we can't help unless we know what each other is thinking." He smiled at Bluestreak, then at Prowl. "All right?"

"Definitely," Bluestreak said, his processor still swimming with the possibility that he might be bonded to **three** mechs instead of just two, and his spark singing at the promise of having Barricade in it again. He leaned his helm against Prowl's, pulling him close. "I think Prowl and I have made that promise to each other a few times before. I think we both just needed an occasional reminder."

"You're right," Prowl said. He released a gust of air from his vents, kissed Bluestreak, and then leaned against Smokescreen. "Just... Please be careful," he added softly, taking Bluestreak's hand in his. "I don't want to see you hurt again."

Bluestreak vented once more, thinking of the dark mech sitting alone in the brig. "Trust me, I have no desire to be hurt, either," he said. "I'll be careful."


	59. Tyranny or Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots try to stop a Decepticon attack on a power plant.

The next morning, Bluestreak was still tangled up with his trine mates in their berth when the ship's alarm sounded, startling all three of them out of recharge and into full alertness.

"Force protection alert four. Repeat, force protection alert four. Deception activity detected. Aerialbots, report to the ground bridge station immediately for deployment. Alpha Team, Delta Team, Support Team One, report to the ground bridge station in ten minutes for deployment. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Deception activity detected."

Prowl's hand was already on his audial, connecting to the Command Centre's comm channel. Even though Prowl's systems were still booting, Bluestreak could feel his focus sharpening as he pulled data from Teletraan and read through his messages while speaking to the other officers.

Bluestreak disentangled himself from the berth covers with a groan, his own systems already priming as they jumped through his quick boot process. Nearly a century as a combat mech had conditioned him to be able to wake quickly in the event of an emergency, but that didn't make the process any more pleasant. "Delta Team... That's me," he said, finally climbing to his pedes next to the berth as he pinged an acknowledgement of the deployment order.

Smokescreen's gaze was turned inward, his face marked with a frown as he checked his own messages. "Guess I'm staying here for now," he said. Then he looked up and accepted Bluestreak's kiss. "Good luck, beautiful, and be careful. And maybe save a few 'Cons for me?"

"Can't promise you that," Bluestreak said with a grin. "But I will be careful."

"The Decepticons have been spotted at a large hydroelectric dam in the southern hemisphere," Prowl said, his optics flickering as he received information from several sources at once. He dropped his hand from his audial and swept out of the berthroom, still talking, as Bluestreak followed him. "There's a relatively large population living in the area, and there are reports of bright flashes of light and loud noises coming from the plant. The polity's military is keeping their news rotaries away for now, but they might not be able to keep them away for long. However, they are providing us with aerial views of the situation." He picked up a data pad from the desk and hurried into the hallway. "Our initial guess is about half a dozen Decepticons, but there may be more." He paused before turning to head towards the Command Centre, and pressed his lips to Bluestreak's. "Be careful, love."

Bluestreak nuzzled Prowl before transforming and racing towards the armory.

The ground bridge station had been built in the rear of the cruiser, near the ship's engines. By the time Bluestreak arrived, most of the teams had assembled. Bluestreak transformed, pulling out the missiles and rifle he'd collected at the armory, and started preparing himself for combat. After a decade of travelling through space and spending most of his time on Earth in peace, Bluestreak thought it might feel strange getting ready to fight once more.

However, the motions of loading the missiles into his shoulder cannons and slotting the battery pack into his rifle felt a lot more natural than he expected.

Nine minutes after the alarm had sounded, Optimus Prime rolled into the ground bridge station and transformed. "I'm sure you've all reviewed the situation report," the Prime said, his deep voice drawing everyone's attention at once. "Our priorities are to protect any humans in the area, prevent damage to the infrastructure that may endanger others, and stop the Decepticons... In that order." He looked around, his gaze resting on each Autobot for a moment before moving onto the next one. "Any questions?"

"No, sir!" the Autobots replied in unison.

The Prime nodded and pointed at the ground bridge's control board. "Wheeljack, please open a ground bridge. Autobots, roll out!"

When they emerged from the glowing tunnel of the ground bridge onto a deserted road leading towards a huge dam, they saw no one at first. "Maybe they left already," Bumblebee said, driving alongside Bluestreak.

"We've completed our first high-altitude survey, Prime. There's activity in the generating station of the dam," Air Commander Silverbolt reported over the comm channel. After a moment, he added, "I see them! I count five Decepticons, all grounders. They've got a stack of what looks like battery packs, and it looks like they're charging them directly from the station. I don't see any humans around, but there might be some inside. We're getting out of range; we'll swing around for another pass in a minute."

Bluestreak cast his sensors skywards, but the Aerialbots were too high even for his sensors to register. However, a human rotary passed directly overhead, a colourful logo emblazoned on its side. He remembered all of the lectures they'd received over the past year about keeping a low profile, and he unmuted himself over the comm line. "Prime, even if we don't transform, I doubt there are a lot of sports cars on this planet equipped with missile launchers."

"Understood. Prowl is already in contact with the government of this polity," the Prime replied. Sure enough, another helicopter, this one obviously a military vehicle, flew directly overhead, forcing the smaller rotary to swing wide to fly off towards the small city that surrounded the dam.

By now they were coming up on the dam, and they slowed. The Prime pinged the combat channel. _Approach with caution. Remember our priorities: save any humans, prevent damage, and stop the Decepticons. Hoist, do your scans show any humans in the immediate vicinity?_

_No, sir._

The Prime's engine revved, a low rumble in Bluestreak's sensors. _Then let's proceed._

Perhaps if the Aerialbots hadn't been further upstream, swinging around to do another pass overhead before coming in for a landing, they might have known what had happened between the time the Aerialbots got out of range, and when the Autobots rounded the corner in an attempt to surprise the Decepticons. But when they came around the corner, transformed with guns drawn, they were immediately bombarded with blaster fire from far more than five Decepticons.

Bumblebee went down first, his cry of surprised pain drowned out by the roar of Decepticon weaponry. As Hoist pulled Bumblebee back around the corner to safety, Trailbreaker erected a force field to protect the Autobots from the rest of the blaster fire.

"Prime, sir, we're under heavy attack!" Silverbolt's comm message sounded withdrawn, an indication that most of his processing power was being used elsewhere. "There are six – no, **nine** Seekers up here with us. We're holding our own, but-" His comm was cut off by static.

"Understood. Do what's needed to protect your team, Air Commander," the Prime replied, and then turned his focus to the Decepticons standing on the other side of Trailbreaker's force field.

Instead of five Decepticons, there were at least a dozen. Bluestreak thought he recognized three or four of them from the fight in which he and Smokescreen had been captured. The Decepticons were busy loading what looked like battery packs into the trailer of a large convoy mech. There were also three Seekers, including Starscream and Skywarp, and a bulky blue communications mech Bluestreak recognized from Barricade's descriptions of Soundwave. But standing in front of them all was a mech who Bluestreak had only seen on the news holos as the war was beginning, and in anti-Decepticon propaganda after it had started.

Megatron's stance spoke of casual violence. The tankformer was far larger than Bluestreak realized he was, taller even than the Seekers who stood at this side. His fabled fusion cannon was attached to his arm, and he moved as though its weight was nothing to him. His bright red optics regarded the Autobots with both disdain and amusement, as if they were playthings that he knew he would soon tire of.

Bluestreak's grip on his rifle tightened.

With a broad smile, Megatron swept his hands to the side in a welcoming gesture. "Optimus Prime!" he called, walking a few steps towards the Autobots. "It's so good to see you. It's been ages since we last saw one another. Tell me, are you still harbouring the same untenable opinions about what a peaceful society looks like?"

"That truth has not changed, Megatron," the Prime said. "A peaceful society includes free will, the opportunity for peaceful dissent, and a place for all of society's members at the table." He lifted his chin and indicated the other Decepticons standing behind their leader, and those still working to load equipment into the convoy mech. "We know what you are planning, and what it will mean to this planet and its inhabitants. We cannot allow that atrocity to stand, just as I will not allow you ravage another planet with your war."

Megatron put his hand on his chest, giving the Prime a look of mock outrage. " **My** war?" he asked. "Need I remind you that there are two sides in every war? If you wanted to end the war, all you had to do was lay down your weapons and submit to my rule. Then we could have ushered in a new age of peace on Cybertron."

"Tyranny will never lead to peace," the Prime said. "Peace must be free. We will find a way to stop you from wreaking havoc on this world... And to undo all that you have done: both to Cybertron and to your own troops. We will work to restore freedom and free will to all those you have stolen it from."

Behind Megatron, Starscream's wings flicked once. Bluestreak might have even missed the twitch if he hadn't been looking right at the Seeker.

When Megatron hummed thoughtfully, Starscream took a half step backwards from his leader.

"Hmm, yes. About that... I appear to be missing one of my troops, a dedicated and loyal soldier who's been at my side since the beginning. He's been gone for a few weeks. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Prime?" Megatron asked. Before the Prime could reply, Megatron held up his hand and gestured for Starscream to step forward. "Starscream, make yourself useful and stand here," he said, pointing at a spot just in front of him.

"Of course, Lord Megatron." Starscream walked forward without hesitation, but without any eagerness, either. Skywarp and the blue seeker Starscream had been standing with both held their wings stiffly, watching the other Seeker come to a stop in front of Megatron.

The large tankformer walked around Starscream, looking him over appraisingly. "Do you know what freedom means, Prime?" he asked. "Freedom means inefficiency. Freedom means discord. Freedom means conflict." He stopped again just behind Starscream's shoulder and smiled at the Autobots. "If everyone can do as they please, it means that there will inevitably be war again. If you had ever studied history, dock worker, you would know that war is in our very nature. We go to war over and over, fighting our petty squabbles over land and resources and words, killing each other again and again, because of that discord and conflict. Freedom means **chaos**." Megatron looked at Starscream, his smile growing. "But I can bring order to that chaos by supplanting my will over those who would sow rebellion. Isn't that right, Starscream?" 

As Megatron spoke, Starscream's wings trembled behind him. But he nodded at Megatron's question. "Yes, Lord Megatron."

"Kneel."

Starscream glanced at Megatron. He hesitated for only a moment, but an instant later Megatron's smile flashed into a frown.

With a cry of pain, Starscream sank to his knees. Behind him, the other two Seekers flinched, but they did not move from where they stood.

"You see, Prime? No discussion. No rejection of my order. Only obedience... And peace." Megatron tipped his helm to the side as if considering something. "Surely you've experienced the same thing: officers who question your direction, troops who disobey orders, disloyal wretches who seek to undermine what you are trying to accomplish. Once I realized the power of unquestioning compliance, I saw the true path forward for all Cybertronians." He walked around the kneeling Seeker again, trailing his fingers along the upper edge of Starscream's wing. Starscream's face was a mask of disgust. His hands gripped his knees, his talons digging into his plating, but he stayed still and said nothing. A cruel smirk twisted Megatron's face as he looked at the Autobots once more. " **This** is how I will bring order to Cybertron, and then to the galaxy."

Over the combat channel, Trailbreaker sent an urgently-coded ping. _Sir, I don't know how much longer I can keep the force field up. My fuel reserves are fading._

The Prime pinged back an acknowledgement, and then walked forward, right up to the flickering force field. "Your ceaseless destruction and cruelty has destroyed our planet. You have caused the death of billions. We will not let you win this conflict. We **cannot** let you win."

Megatron let out a laugh, its sound booming off of the wall of the dam above them. "Are you really that foolish, Prime? I am **already** the victor in this war. All that is left for me to do is use the spoils of this pitiful planet to rejuvenate our own, and then clean up what trivial resistance is left." He made a dismissive gesture towards the Autobots before looking down at Starscream. "Enough. Get up now."

"Yes, Lord Megatron." Starscream practically leapt to his pedes. He returned to his place by his trine, and watched Megatron through narrowed optics.

But Megatron had already turned his attention to Soundwave. "Ready?" he asked.

Soundwave gave Megatron a sharp nod. "Data collection: complete, Lord Megatron," he said, his voice inflectionless.

Behind the Decepticons, the shimmering green circle of a ground bridge opened in the air. The convoy mech drove through first, followed by the grounders.

"Drop the force field, Trailbreaker!" the Prime ordered. As soon as the field vanished, he ran forward, already firing his blaster. "Autobots, attack! Don't let them get away with that equipment!"

But the other Decepticons were already making their way into the bridge. Megatron turned and lifted his arm, aiming his fusion cannon at the Autobots. In an instant, the muzzle lit up a brilliant white, and a blinding flash of light erupted from it.

Bluestreak was thrown to the ground by the blast as it hit the dam just in front of the Prime. He felt the dam beneath him shake, and he rolled, trying to bring his rifle or missiles to bear on the warlord.

Megatron paused at the entrance of the ground bridge to smile at the Autobots one more time. "I look forward to seeing you again sometime soon, Optimus Prime," he said. Then he vanished into the tunnel, and it closed up behind him.

* * *

Prowl continued to go out of his way to avoid speaking directly to Barricade. He read reports of each interview that Red Alert, Jazz and the Prime conducted with him, and even gave them questions to ask of him in their next session. He also continued to be extraordinarily busy, working long hours and poring over reports from the humans and additional data from Wheeljack.

But even still, there was concrete evidence that Prowl had taken Bluestreak's and Smokescreen's concerns to spark.

Within three days of Bluestreak's and Smokescreen's discussion with Prowl, Barricade's mode lock was removed. The first time Barricade transformed after having the lock removed, Bluestreak could almost hear the relief in the exultant rev of Barricade's engine. And while it wasn't very spacious, there was just enough room in one of the empty cargo holds for the two of them to drive very tiny laps around and around the hold.

Instead of Djsuro coming to see him inside the brig for his nearly daily examinations, the Povian coding specialist was now able to see him in his lab across the hallway from Medical. The diminutive engineer had been frustrated by being unable to bring all of his equipment with him to the brig to run tests on Barricade. Now, Djsuro seemed much more optimistic of his chances of finding a solution to Barricade's issue.

"Carly was right, he **does** lapse into Povian a lot when he's explaining something," Barricade told Bluestreak one day after an appointment with Djsuro. "I never did learn that language, so I have no idea what he's saying half the time. But from what I can tell, it sounds like he's making progress on..." Barricade stopped to rub his chest with a frown, then changed the subject with a flick of his door wings. "Hey, didn't you say Smokescreen was interested in playing some Praxus Hold 'Em tonight?"

But best of all, Barricade was also given his own private quarters. This change did not come without some compromises, however. Even with Prowl's shift in attitude, Red Alert still did not trust the former Decepticon enough to grant him full freedom. Cameras were installed outside of Barricade's quarters and in the vent shafts that led into them. He was still required to wear a tracking collar, and he was still not permitted off the ship, or even anywhere outside of his quarters without an armed guard.

Even with the restrictions that remained, though, the changes seemed to be a huge improvement for Barricade. He told Bluestreak that he was recharging better, and having someplace to go where there wasn't someone always watching him was a novelty. "On the _Nemesis_ , even in my quarters, I knew there was a chance someone was watching me," Barricade said. He grimaced, rubbing his chest before continuing. "Megatron has always been paranoid, even before he..." Barricade's door wings flicked, and Bluestreak could practically see him forming ideas and rejecting them before speaking, probably because they ventured a bit too close to the loyalty coding that would cause him pain to even think deeply about. "Sometimes he sent drones or Soundwave's cassettes to spy on anyone who he thought might be working against him." He shook his helm. "I didn't have anyone to watch my back, so I just got used to the idea that someone was always watching me. Not having to do that here is..." He smiled. "Well, it's a relief, to be honest, even if I know your security director always knows where I am."

Not everyone was happy about Barricade's newfound freedoms, however. Some Autobots and organics, especially those who had lost friends to Decepticon atrocities, sneered at Barricade whenever they passed him in the corridors or saw him in the mess hall, or made rude gestures behind his back. A few, like Cliffjumper, included Bluestreak in that scorn, not understanding how the Praxian could be so sympathetic to the ex-Decepticon, even if he was his ex-bond mate.

Bluestreak didn't blame those mechs at all, not after all he'd been through personally before and during the war. Megatron's description of Barricade as a "dedicated and loyal soldier" also swirled around in his helm, adding to the doubt that he struggled with.

But not everyone viewed Barricade with deep suspicion. Some other crew members seemed to take Barricade's change of spark in stride, accepting that he truly wanted to help the Autobots.

Two of those mechs were the twins. In Basic training, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had heard all about what Barricade had done from Bluestreak and Prowl. They had seemed to sympathize deeply with the two Praxians, offering comfort and a non-judgmental audial when either one of them wanted to vent about what had happened. But, when the twins finally met Barricade in person, they both seemed to accept his defection at face value, with nothing more than a shrug.

"Everyone can change their mind about things," Sideswipe said about a week after Barricade had been granted his private quarters. Sideswipe and his brother were alone in the rec room with Bluestreak, all three of them having just finished up a patrol shift. Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker and added, "I mean, **we** did."

"What did you change your mind about?" Bluestreak asked.

Sunstreaker frowned at Sideswipe, then glanced around the rec room. It was empty aside from the three of them. Seemingly satisfied that they were alone, Sunstreaker threw back the rest of his fuel before replying. "We originally joined the Decepticons when they took over Kaon," Sunstreaker said, his tone casual.

Bluestreak's optics went wide, and his wings flared out in shock. "You never told me that!" he whispered.

"Nope." Sideswipe swirled his fuel around in his cube thoughtfully. "To be honest, we weren't sure how you'd take it," he said. "I mean, you still seemed pretty shell-shocked about Praxus when we met you in Basic. And when you and Cop Bot said your bond mate had joined up with the 'Cons, well..." He shrugged. "We could tell you were upset about that, too. So we didn't mention what we'd done."

Bluestreak tipped his door wings upwards. "If you'd already joined the Decepticons, what made you change your minds?"

"The 'Cons themselves," Sunstreaker said flatly. He looked at Bluestreak. "You knew we were Pit fighters. That was a rough life, and we met a lot of rough characters. But the cruelty and flat out sparklessness that was encouraged in the Decepticon troops was way worse than what we'd ever seen, even in the Pits."

Sideswipe nodded. "That's when we reconsidered what we wanted to fight for. Originally we were fighting for a better life: better access to fuel, better living conditions, a government that actually cared about the citizens who had the least." He shrugged. "Some blamed the Senate. Others blamed organics, or the elites. All we wanted was to not be taken for granted anymore, and to be able to live without worrying how to get fuel when we started running low."

Sunstreaker picked up Sideswipe's side of the conversation without a pause, like the twins often did for one another. "But the 'Cons started doing things like... You know, offering more fuel to mechs who did things like harass the organics still living there, or upgrading the living arrangements for anyone who reported mechs who weren't all rah-rah about killing every Autobot they saw. And the meaner and more dangerous you were, the more seriously others took you. So mechs started doing things like getting shoddy repairs so they'd have scars, or not getting themselves repainted after a fight." Sunstreaker's engine grumbled at that. "They thought it made them look tough, and they hoped fewer mechs would bother them."

Bluestreak's fingers unconsciously touched his cheek, their tips brushing against his smooth mesh where Barricade had a deep scar.

Sideswipe finished his fuel as his brother spoke, then slammed his cube down on the table. "Anyway, one night we saw one of the mechs who was sharing our bunkhouse outside on the street, talking and laughing with some organics... A couple of Povians, and an A'ovan. They weren't doing anything except talking. But we'd had a bad day, and we reported him the next morning for being suspiciously friendly to the organics." Sideswipe's gaze was fixed on his table as if he could see the whole scene playing on its surface. "Our story was corroborated by the security cameras outside the bunkhouse, and Howler got sent to work in the scrapyard. We never saw him again... Or the organics."

"They gave us extra fuel rations for the report. The good stuff, premium filtered, with whatever flavourings we wanted. But..." Sunstreaker held up his cube and gazed at it. "It tasted like exhaust, knowing what we did to get it."

Flicking his empty cube so it spun away from him across the table, Sideswipe shrugged. "Anyway, after that, we decided that wasn't what we wanted for ourselves. We didn't want to live like that. And who knows... We might have been turned in next for something just as innocent. So we left. We tried being neutrals for a while, but, well... We realized both sides were fighting for the same thing: a better way of life. But both sides had different views on what that looked like. We knew we didn't agree with the Decepticon vision for Cybertron, so we thought we'd try the Autobots. It took us a while, but we finally made our way to Rodion, where we joined up and went into Basic, around when Praxus got leveled." He looked at Bluestreak. "So, that's why we don't have a problem with your ex-Con there. I'm sure he'll prove out his sincerity soon enough."

"And if he doesn't," said Sunstreaker, his voice uncharacteristically soft. " **We'll** make sure he doesn't hurt you again." He looked at Bluestreak seriously. "No one gets to hurt one of our friends twice and get away with it."


	60. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak manages to get some time alone with his ex-bond mate.

The twins' story was still percolating around in Bluestreak's mind a few days later when he visited Barricade's quarters to collect him for their regular evening 'outing.' Sideswipe just happened to be the armed guard assigned to Barricade for the night as well.

Bluestreak nodded at the red mech as he pushed the chime to let Barricade know he was there. "Guess you get to hang out with us tonight too, huh?"

"Slag, I'm **so** glad you're coming to get him tonight," Sideswipe said. He grinned at Barricade when the door opened. "I was a little worried because I know both Cop Bot and your Gambler have the night off. I thought you might want to spend the night with them instead. Wasting a whole evening just standing in the hallway sounded boring as slag."

"You're not skipping out on... on your trine to spend time with me, are you?" Barricade asked Bluestreak, a worried look crossing his face.

Bluestreak waved his hand reassuringly. "They know I'm here. They encouraged me to come see you tonight, actually," he said. He did not mention the anxious feeling he was still getting from Prowl, and the firm reassurance from Smokescreen. They'd talked it all out, and everyone was in agreement. It was just **fine** for Bluestreak to spend time with Barricade.

Of course, maybe Smokescreen was right. Maybe Bluestreak **was** projecting some of his own anxiety about rejuvenating his relationship with Barricade onto the bond.

"Well, then, what trouble should we be getting into?" Sideswipe asked, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. Then he straightened slightly, made a face, and put his hand to his audial to take a private comm. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant. Yes, I am keeping an optic on the detainee. Understood. Sideswipe out." He lowered his hand and rolled his optics as he pulled his rifle off of his shoulder and holding it ready. "Primus, he is worse than having a searchlight for a mentor," he whispered theatrically. "Does he really think you're gonna do a runner on us now?"

Barricade laughed. His deep voice was still fractured and rough, but his laugh still sounded the same to Bluestreak: resonant and sincere. "What **is** the plan for tonight, Blue?" he asked. He smile was still bright, but Bluestreak could hear a slight weariness in his voice as he added, "I guess we're going to the rec room again, huh?"

Bluestreak hesitated. He wasn't permitted inside Barricade's quarters, not without explicit permission from either Jazz or Red Alert, and even then they couldn't be alone. According to the security director, the ex-Decepticon hacker was not to be left alone with **anyone**. The Prime had unconditionally vetoed any cameras inside Barricade's quarters (much to Red Alert's annoyance), so the 'must be accompanied' rider was added to the rules in their place.

That left very few places for Bluestreak and Barricade to go. Barricade wasn't permitted off the ship. He was not permitted in any of the command or control areas of the ship, including the engine room. His regular trips to Medical were on an appointment basis, for Ratchet to check the shielding on his spark, or for Djsuro to do more analysis of the microcode corrupting his systems. (And besides, who really wanted to hang out in Medical?) Barricade was only permitted to use one specific wash rack, and only then with an armed guard. That left the mess hall, the rec room, the cargo hold for a very short (and boring) drive, or just walking aimlessly around the ship as their only options for places to go and things to do.

It got boring after a while.

But Bluestreak wanted to have a conversation with Barricade, one that had been circulating in his processor ever since talking to the twins. Plus, Bluestreak was still carrying around the toy tankformer. He'd been wanting to return it to Barricade for a while; after all, it was rightfully his. He didn't want to do either of those things with an audience, but no opportunities had presented themselves recently.

Bluestreak shrugged at Barricade's question and said, "I was hoping that we could go somewhere a little private to talk, but..."

He stopped when he received a ping from Sideswipe. _You know... The top hull of the ship is still technically **on** the ship. And it's pretty private up there._

Frag, but Sideswipe could be wonderfully imaginative sometimes in finding loopholes.

"Sideswipe, you're a genius. Come on," Bluestreak said with a grin, and grabbed a mystified Barricade's hand.

Red Alert commed both Bluestreak and Sideswipe while they were still on the ramp leading to the roof of the cruiser. "Where are you going? You know the detainee isn't allowed off the ship!"

"I'll believe you'll find the definition of 'on board' includes anything attached to the ship," Sideswipe replied, throwing a delighted smile at the other two mechs. "And as far as I know 'the detainee' doesn't have a flight mode, so you don't have to worry about him flying away."

Red Alert didn't miss a beat. "There are no cameras on the hull of the ship. The detainee cannot be out of range of the _Ark's_ cameras or sensors at any time."

"There's no cameras, but there **are** sensors on the hull," Bluestreak said as they climbed the last leg to the roof hatch. He waited while Sideswipe keyed it open. "So you'll be able to see exactly where Barricade is."

Bluestreak could almost hear Red Alert's engine snarling over the comm line. "How did you know about that? Those sensors are classified!"

"Sir, with respect... I helped install them after our second space bridge transit," Bluestreak replied, just barely managing to stop himself from rolling his optics at the camera over the airlock gate. "Remember? We didn't get them installed before our launch, and you refused to let us go any further until they'd been wired up?"

There was a burst of static from Red Alert before he finally sent Bluestreak and Sideswipe a 'message acknowledged' ping. "You will report in every five minutes while the detainee is outside the ship!" Red Alert added, directing the message to Sideswipe. "Red Alert out."

Barricade looked at Bluestreak, his door wings canted downwards and his scarlet optics wide. "You're allowed to talk to your officers like that?"

Bluestreak shrugged. "Technically, no, but... We've been travelling together for a long time. He could complain to my commanding officer, but I don't think Ironhide would even listen, to be honest."

In reply, Barricade only smiled and shook his helm.

Sideswipe's voice echoed down the airlock tunnel. "Hey, did you know it was snowing?"

Bluestreak and Barricade emerged onto the roof of the Ark to find it covered in a light dusting of white precipitation. Bluestreak looked at the sky and groaned. "Frag, it's totally clouded over. I was going to show you some of the constellations that Hound showed me."

But when he turned to look at Barricade, the dark mech's helm was craned backwards to look up at the falling snow, his rich scarlet optics wide. "This is gorgeous," he murmured. He held out his hand and watched as individual flakes collected on it. "I've seen pictures of snow on the humans' data net but I haven't seen it in person."

Sideswipe was standing next to the airlock hatch, scanning the roof. He nudged Bluestreak before pointing to a cooling tower about twenty yards away. He sent Bluestreak a ping. _If you go behind that tower, I wouldn't be able to see you. Just a thought._ When Bluestreak looked at him in surprise, Sideswipe winked at him and shrugged. _You know. If you wanted **that** kind of privacy._

Bluestreak glanced at Barricade, who was still gaping up at the falling snow. Bluestreak's spark did a funny little flip at the way Barricade's head was tilted back, and at the smile on his lips, and the way his optics were bright with delight. Bluestreak decided that maybe he did want **that** kind of privacy, even if just to have a discussion... Since Sideswipe was offering. "Come on, Cade, let me show you something over here," he said. He grabbed Barricade's hand before sending a reply to Sideswipe. _Thanks._

As they walked to the cooling tower, Bluestreak sent both of his bond mates a touch of affection, then he put a partial block on the bond.

He needed to focus for this conversation.

The cooling tower blocked most of the light from the floodlight over the airlock, and the snow danced in the shadows all around them. Barricade watched the flakes swirl around their legs and laughed. "This really is pretty. This planet never ceases to surprise me with its beauty."

Bluestreak hesitated again, his last remaining shred of doubt still churning in his spark. Feeling secure in the knowledge that Sideswipe was only a few steps away if the conversation went poorly, Bluestreak firmed his resolve and then spoke. "It's really pretty for an organic planet, you mean?" he asked.

Barricade's door wings fell and he looked at Bluestreak. "Look, I..."

"Cade, I've heard you a few times, defending the Akkiel to that human. And the other day you mentioned how smart Djusro was, and how much progress he was making on your... You know." Bluestreak frowned. "But you also liked Urzhul, and Dorgu. There were a few Akkiel herds you worked with at the Senate, too, that I know you got along with. But even with all that, you **still** joined Cybertron First, even after you knew what they stood for. Even after Prowl and I called you on it." He reached out and took Barricade's hand in his. "Cade, I... I need to know that you've changed your mind. No, wait. It's more than that." He looked at Barricade, wishing he could send Barricade a sense of all of his misgivings, so that Barricade could send back his sincerity. Instead, the empty space in his spark throbbed. "I need to know that you've changed **how** you think."

Barricade's jaw clenched, making the scar on his cheek ripple in the dim light. "Look, I... I was angry. I wanted a sparkling so bad, and we were so close, and... Well, you knew how angry I was. I needed someone to blame, and Cybertron First gave me those targets. They took my anger, and... And they weaponized it, and they gave me a target to point it at." Barricade's wings sank as he spoke until they were flat against his back. "They explained everything. The Senate was to blame. Organics were to blame. The elites were responsible for everything. They made it all make sense. Every time I started having second thoughts about what we were doing, there was someone there to explain **why** what we were doing was right." Barricade took a shuddering vent and looked right at Bluestreak. "You remember that night, when Prowl told me to stop going to meet with Cybertron First? And you came to my room and told me how worried you and Prowl were?"

Bluestreak nodded. In his memories, that night felt like it had happened just the other day, and a million years ago. "Yeah. I remember."

"I almost quit that night. I almost walked away from it all." Barricade looked up at the sky again, watching the flakes drift down from the grey sky above. "The next day I went and talked to my contact. I said I didn't think I was interested in participating anymore, that I wasn't sure I was ready for what they were going to do. And-" Barricade's voice went scratchy with static. "And she talked me out of it. Somehow, Strika convinced me that my bond mates were wrong and that Cybertron First was right, and that we were going to save Cybertron for **everyone**. She convinced me that once we'd changed the world, you'd see that we were right. But..." He shook his helm, his engine whining in frustration. "If I had just walked away, if I just hadn't listened to her..."

Bluestreak blinked his optics, realizing they'd gone blurry with coolant. "After the attack on the Senate, Prowl wondered whether he should have turned you in. That's one of the things they asked him: why he hadn't reported your activities and turned you in." Bluestreak squeezed Barricade's hand. "I don't know if he ever really forgave himself for not doing that, even if it would have turned you against us completely."

Barricade worked his intake before answering. "I don't know what I would have done, but..." He closed his optics. "I know things would have been different, for us at least."

Barricade's hand was so very warm in Bluestreak's. He had always run hot, ever since Bluestreak had met him. As he looked at Barricade's dejected frown, Bluestreak felt a surge of affection for the dark mech standing in front of him. It was an emotion that felt so natural, even after all this time, and all that had happened.

He still loved this mech.

"I have something for you." Reaching into his subspace, Bluestreak pulled out the toy tankformer and held it out to Barricade, who just stared at it with wide optics. "You promised you'd be back for it, and... Well..." He wiggled it, trying to encourage Barricade to take it. "You're here. So... Take it."

Barricade took the tankformer gingerly and turned it over in his talons, the tips gently touching the scratches in the faded paint. "I couldn't believe it when I saw this," Barricade said. He looked up at Bluestreak, the ghost of a smile returning to his lips. "You really hung onto it for all this time? With everything that's happened?"

Bluestreak smiled at the toy. "It became a bit of a good-luck charm," he said, then refocused on Barricade's face. "I pulled it out after almost every battle and every mission, and I'd wonder where you were. Then, after we thought you were dead, I thought about you. You know, just remembering how things used to be." He shrugged, letting his wings flutter slightly. "It was like carrying a little piece of you around with me."

Barricade's engine made a strange noise, and then he wiped at his optics. "I'm so sorry, Blue," he whispered, his gaze still downcast at the toy he was turning over and over in his hands. "For everything. I know I can't go back and fix anything but... **Primus** , I wish I could, somehow."

Later, Bluestreak wasn't sure what made him lean forward, closing the gap between him and Barricade until there was no gap at all. All he could think about was Smokescreen's laughing reminder of how Bluestreak never asked for what he wanted, because he never admitted to himself what he really desired.

But this... **This** was something Bluestreak knew he wanted.

He brushed his lips against Barricade's, barely even a touch, and whispered, "I forgive you, Cade."

Barricade's optics flew open and his wings flicked upwards, but he didn't flinch back from Bluestreak. "You don't have to," he whispered in reply.

"No, I don’t." Bluestreak smiled and leaned forward again, brushing his lips against Barricade's again, more firmly this time. "But I want to." Bluestreak took the toy from Barricade's fingers, setting it on one of the protrusions on the cooling tower beside them. Then he pulled Barricade against him, his arms going around Barricade's waist just like they used to do so long ago. They fit so well together still, even with all of the changes in their armor, with Barricade's hood slotting right under Bluestreak's in a perfect match. Bluestreak pressed his lips against Barricade's audial and whispered, "Is this all right with you? Is this something that you want?"

Barricade's wings had splayed outwards when Bluestreak's arms went around him, but at Bluestreak's quiet question all of the tension ran out of Barricade's frame. "Yes," Barricade hissed in reply, his words almost lost to the sound of his cooling fans. "Oh Primus, yes, more than anything."

Barricade's lips were as soft as they were in Bluestreak's dreams, when he would wake up with charge running through his lines and coolant in his optics as he finally remembered that Barricade was dead. But now, here, Barricade was undeniably alive, with his mouth on Bluestreak's and his hands on Bluestreak's hips, pulling them together in a feverish desperation. As if they had minds of their own, Bluestreak's hands roamed from Barricade's hips, one sliding up to curl around Barricade's neck while the other slipped between his thighs to press against his modesty panel.

The panel slid aside almost as soon as Bluestreak's fingers touched it, and they stroked against the puffy lips of Barricade's valve. Barricade moaned at his touch, his voice muffled by Bluestreak's mouth on his. When Bluestreak's fingers slipped past the rim, into the narrow channel to graze the nodes just inside, Barricade's moan shorted out into a staticky gasp. Barricade clung to Bluestreak as his legs trembled, threatening to collapse at Bluestreak's gentle touches.

With a rev of his engine, Bluestreak pressed Barricade back against the cooling tower, pinning the dark mech between him and the structure. His fingers swept deeper into Barricade's valve, and he kissed and nibbled his way down Barricade's chin to his neck, greedy in his own need. Barricade gasped again as Bluestreak's fingers pressed against that spot inside him (that one spot, that spot that always made Barricade cry out in ecstasy, that special spot that Bluestreak's fingers remembered on their own: two knuckles deep and on the anterior side of Barricade's canal). Barricade's door wings beat arrhythmically against the cooling tower as he hung onto Bluestreak's shoulders as if his life depended on it.

Stroking the tips of his fingers against that spot inside Barricade's valve one more time, Bluestreak pulled back to look at Barricade just as the dark mech's helm fell backwards against the cooling tower. His gorgeous scarlet optics stared sightlessly at the sky and his mouth fell open, his sharpened fangs glinting in the dim light. A moment later, Bluestreak saw a shower of sparks, blue and gold, skitter beneath Barricade's plating and burst out of his seams as his charge peaked, and Barricade cried out softly. "Blue!"

As Barricade sagged against Bluestreak, his optics dimming, Bluestreak held him up, pressing his helm to the side of Barricade's. He withdrew his fingers from Barricade's valve and held the dark mech tightly, letting his spark spin freely.

It ached. The missing piece of his spark ached just like the first time Bluestreak had realized Barricade was no longer there with him. He could feel his spark reaching out, as if it sensed that its missing piece was so close. That seemed to make the pain even more pronounced.

Bluestreak carefully withdrew from that place, and instead lowered the block he'd placed on the bond. The block hadn't been very solid, so he knew his bond mates had known what he was up to. They'd talked about it, but still... He nervously reached out towards the other two presences in his spark.

Bluestreak first sensed Smokescreen's acceptance of the light arousal wafting through the bond from Bluestreak, and he sent Smokescreen gratitude and a short ping. _I'm with Barricade. I wasn't sure if I should block you two, but..._

Smokescreen's acceptance grew stronger, touched with his own taste of desire. _It's all right. I'm with Prowl. He's doing fine. Have fun, beautiful._

Then Bluestreak turned to Prowl's presence in his spark, gingerly testing his mood. Prowl was a swirl of conflicting emotions – anxiety and trust - but when he sensed Bluestreak's concern the emotions that rose to the surface were love and care. Before Bluestreak could respond with anything, Prowl sent him a ping of his own. _I know how much you missed him, and I can feel how much you need this. I love you, Bluestreak._

Bluestreak pressed his face harder into Barricade's neck, his scent filling his olfactory sensors, triggering century-old memories of the three of them twined together: Barricade on his left and Prowl on his right, with Bluestreak happily held between them. _Thank you, my light. I adore you, and I always will. I hope you know that._

The wash of affection from Prowl was answer enough.

When the tone of Barricade's engine changed, Bluestreak lifted his helm and looked at him again. Barricade's scarlet optics were bright once more, and his cheeks were flushed still with latent charge. Bluestreak smiled, brushing his dampened fingers against Barricade's cheek. "I don't remember you being such a short-range mech," Bluestreak said, and his smile broadened when his words startled a quick laugh from Barricade. "Were you with anyone before...?" He let his question trail off.

Barricade shrugged, then shook his helm. "No," he said. "Not really. I tried, a few years after I thought you'd died, after I figured that Prowl had given up on me, but..." He shrugged again and glanced away. "No matter what I did, whenever someone else touched me, I kept thinking about Prowl, and you, and I just..." He leaned his helm back against the cooling tower, his gaze cast towards the sky. "I couldn't do it." His voice fell to a whisper. "They weren't you."

The snow had picked up, creating a dance of tiny white flakes around them. As the flakes fell onto Barricade's armor, they stood out for a moment like stars in the dark before melting away into nothing. Bluestreak's optics roamed over Barricade, taking in the shape of his face, the strong chin framed by his chinstrap, the hue of his optics.

After all this time, even with all of the changes to them both and with all that had happened between them, Bluestreak still found him to be terribly handsome.

The light charge that had built up in Bluestreak's lines as he'd listened to Barricade's soft moans and sighs a few minutes earlier had grown steadily stronger, fueled by what he was sensing from his bond mates. He ran his awareness across their connection, gently, and received a burst of encouragement from Smokescreen and a wave of need from Prowl.

Bluestreak shivered and pulled Barricade closer as his own cooling fans clicked on.

"And now?" Bluestreak kissed the side of Barricade's helm, then his cheek, then his lips. "Can I...?"

"Yes." Barricade's answer was barely audible. "Please."

Their next kiss was nothing like the gentle touches that they'd been a few minutes before. With his charge ramping up, Bluestreak wanted as much of Barricade as he could get, and Barricade reciprocated.

Their lips pressed together, dentae and fang clashing together as if each sought to devour the other, both of them needing as much as they could get of the other. Bluestreak didn't even notice when his panel transformed aside, but he moaned into Barricade's mouth as soon as his spike pressurized and started rubbing against Barricade's plating, sending shocks of sensation and charge through his frame.

Pushing Barricade hard against the cooling tower, Bluestreak gripped Barricade's aft, lifting him up, and then slid his spike into Barricade's drooling valve in one smooth motion. A groan escaped his vocalizer.

"Ah! Primus! Blue!" Barricade's helm rocked back against the tower again, his mouth gaping open in a gasp. Barricade's legs wrapped around Bluestreak's waist, pulling him in even tighter, and his arms wound around Bluestreak's torso. "Please, yes," Barricade moaned as Bluestreak pulled out, firmed his grip, and pushed into him again.

It felt right, and perfect, and familiar. The way Barricade's sharpened talons dug into his wing hinges, and the tiny little gasping moans that Barricade made, and the look in his optics when he finally met Bluestreak's gaze again, all of it was almost exactly like Bluestreak had dreamt for so many years, even after they'd thought that this handsome, spirited, frustrating mech was gone.

His spark throbbed in delight and ached in loss, both at the same time.

"When- Ah! When did you get so strong?" Barricade asked, his voice crackling with effort as Bluestreak thrust into him again. "You couldn't do this- ah! –before!"

Bluestreak kissed Barricade again before replying, his engine revving as he continued plunging his spike into Barricade's valve. "Reinforced frame. Retuned engine. Heavy-duty cables. They tried to make me into a tank," Bluestreak said. "They never really succeeded, not like they'd wanted, but at least now I can do this." And with another rev of his engine, Bluestreak lifted Barricade higher again, sliding him against the surface of the cooling tower, before lowering him again onto his spike.

It felt amazing.

They didn't speak again, both of them too focused on the physical sensations of what was happening between them to concentrate on talking. But it also felt as though words weren't really necessary, not in this moment, when it was just the two of them, in the dark and the snow. The feel of Barricade's valve gripping his spike, the rush of strength as he lifted Barricade again, the slide of Barricade's pedes on his thighs, the pressure of Barricade's legs on his hips, the pain of Barricade's new talons sinking into his back, all of it spoke for itself.

Bluestreak's spark reached out, seeking a connection with this mech who he missed and he loved...

And found only an empty hole.

Just as Bluestreak recoiled from that painful edge, he felt his trine mates, consumed by their own passion, reaching out for him and enfolding him in their love and their understanding. Then, with his arms wrapped around Barricade and his spark wrapped in his trine's passion, Bluestreak fell over the edge alongside his bond mates.

As his and his trine's overloads crashed through him, Bluestreak thrust deep into Barricade's valve, once, twice. On his third thrust, just at the peak of the sensations, with his spark thrumming in its casing in time with the twitching of his spike, Bluestreak's right pede slipped, skidding back in the wet, icy snow that had accumulated on the hull of the ship.

Barricade made a small sound, something caught between need and fright, and his talons dug deeper into Bluestreak's back as Bluestreak caught himself and found his footing. With his processor and spark still caught in the throes of his overload, Bluestreak summoned up his strength and awareness and held Barricade tighter, even as his spike finished spilling inside his lover.

"I've got you," Bluestreak said, his voice a warbled mess as he tried to translate his thoughts into coherent words. "I've got you, Cade. I won't let you fall."

Barricade shattered.

Bluestreak was just starting to come down from his overload when Barricade's hit him, the scatter of discharged energy cascading from Barricade into Bluestreak and down to the hull of the ship. As Barricade's valve cycled down on his spike, Bluestreak tipped into another, softer overload, wringing the last bit of charge out of his systems. Still, his grip on Barricade's aft held, and his footing remained firm, and he held Barricade tightly as they both came down from that shivering high.

Tipping his helm forward so his helm crest rested against Barricade's, Bluestreak closed his optics and simply let himself feel everything, from the heat radiating from Barricade's frame, to the chill of the snow falling on his wings, to the drool of lubricant and transfluid running down his thigh, to the devotion of his bond mates, and to the void in his spark.

He held Barricade tightly for some uncounted time. When Bluestreak opened his optics, Barricade was looking at him, their optics just centimeters apart. The filaments that made up his optics shifted and moved minutely as Barricade's focus changed, taking in every bit of Bluestreak's optics. The filaments grew brighter just before he spoke.

"Thank you, Blue," Barricade whispered.

Bluestreak smiled. Instead of replying, he kissed Barricade. "Is it all right to put you down?" he asked.

Barricade nodded and untangled his pedes, lowering them to the ground. When he'd set Barricade down, Bluestreak picked up the toy tankformer again and handed it to Barricade. "I meant it," Bluestreak said. "It's yours. Take it."

Barricade turned the toy over in his hands a few times, then held it out to Bluestreak again. "Not yet," he said. When Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side, Barricade added, "When I'm free of..." He pressed his hand to his chest for a moment. "After that. But you keep it until then."

Bluestreak nodded. "All right," he said, and took the toy, slipping it into his subspace. "I hope they figure it out fast."

"Me, too."

"Cade." Bluestreak took Barricade's hand again. "I want you in my life again." He lifted Barricade's hand to his lips and kissed the back of his fingers. "I love you. Still."

Barricade's door wings wove complicated designs in the air behind him. "But what about..." He lifted his other hand, the tips of his talons just brushing the bonding stripes on Bluestreak's right wing.

Dimming his optics, Bluestreak ran his awareness over the connection with Prowl. He received back acceptance and love, but also a strong thread of worry. "We'll figure something out. The four of us will." He kissed Barricade's fingers again. "I **know** we can make this work somehow... If you're willing."

Barricade did not reply, but simply closed his optics.

Just then they both heard a very purposeful-sounding scuff of pede on snow. "Hey, uh, not to rush anything," Sideswipe called from the other side of the cooling tower. "But Red's been on me for the last ten minutes. He said the snow's messing with the sensors up here and he wants to know what you're doing." Sideswipe's tone was the perfect picture of innocence. "I explained you were just watching the snow fall, but he insisted on a visual."

Bluestreak checked his messages and found his queue was filled with pings and queries from the security director. He smiled at Barricade. "The snow **is** pretty gorgeous up here, isn't it, Cade?" he asked.

Barricade's wings fluttered behind him. "It's the most beautiful thing I've seen on this whole planet," he replied softly, his gaze firmly fixed on Bluestreak.

Sideswipe popped his helm around the cooling tower. He glanced at them both, a grin creeping over his face. "Now that's what I call a productive evening," he said.

Bluestreak looked down at his frame to see it covered in paint transfers, and he could feel the chill of cooling lubricant on his thighs. Barricade was in the same state. "Slag," Bluestreak said. "We'll need to get cleaned up somehow." The idea of walking through the corridors marked like this did not excite Bluestreak, especially since so many of the other crew members still didn't seem to trust Barricade.

Sideswipe pulled out two cleaning cloths and tossed them to Bluestreak. "Sunny insists I carry these around all the time. It'll make you decent enough to get to the wash rack," he said. He waved. "I'll wait by the door while you and Tall, Dark and Complicated clean up."

While Barricade frowned at Sideswipe, Bluestreak laughed. "That is a really long nickname," he said.

"It's a work in progress," Sideswipe called.

"What did he mean by that?" Barricade asked as he started wiping at the stains on his plating.

Bluestreak smiled. "It means Sideswipe thinks we're good for each other," he said, then laughed again as Barricade only looked more confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a while back I mentioned that I guestimated this story would be done in 62-65 chapters or so. _Well_ , I'm working on chapter 68 right now, so... Hahahaha. But as soon as I know what the final chapter count will be I will be marking that in the fic. (I'm almost done but these chapters aren't behaving in terms of length, so I'm not even going to hazard a guess yet.)


	61. Force Protection Alert Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron's plans near completion... And he makes a move on the Autobots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited from the version that was originally published. An additional scene (about 1000 words) was added to the end! If you've already read this chapter, skip down to the new scene break (the horizontal line) that has been added, then start reading from there.

Over the next month, the Decepticons hit over two dozen sites in their quest for power.

No matter how hard Prowl looked, there did not seem to be any rhyme nor reason behind the attacks. Logic dictated that if they wanted to maximize their uptake of energy, the Decepticons should be hitting large power plants one after the other. But they weren't doing that; instead they would attack a few smaller plants, three or four or even five in a row, before attacking a larger one. Wheeljack tried to determine if there was a pattern to the amount of energy they stole that might help them predict the next raid, but there didn't seem to be any rationale that he could determine.

Additionally, the attacks were scattered all over the globe, usually in remote areas. By the time the Autobots detected a disturbance registered on the human communication networks or were notified of an attack by the local authorities, and they opened a ground bridge to the location, the Deceptions were already finishing up draining the power they needed. Very often, the Decepticons escaped within moments of the Autobots arriving, and all the Autobots witnessed was the last few Decepticons vanishing into their ground bridge.

"It's almost as if they're keeping each attack covert until they're almost done, then doing something to draw attention to themselves," Prowl complained one night. He had been working late again, but at least he was being open with his bond mates, as he'd promised to be. Prowl radiated exhaustion and frustration as he leaned against Bluestreak. "I don't like it."

"Could they just be doing it to be boltheads? You know, teasing us?" Smokescreen asked. He looked up from the floor, where he had one of Prowl's pedes in his lap, giving his ankle rocker a thorough cleaning and oiling. Prowl had been neglecting his basic maintenance again. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, considering how Megatron had come along on that one attack just to taunt the Prime in person."

"No. Something else is going on." Prowl made a tiny squeak as Smokescreen worked a piece of grit free of his joint. "Thanks, that feels a lot better." He relaxed more, melting into Bluestreak's side as if he was made out of gel. "Red Alert is convinced they're setting up a trap. I'm starting to think that way, too. Perceptor has some theories, but nothing concrete enough for us to convince the Prime. And as for him..." Prowl vented, his frustration rising again. "The Prime insists we still have to deploy our troops to each of these raids, to see what we can do to help. He says the humans are our new allies, and it's our fault the Decepticons are here in the first place. He said we can't leave them to fight them alone."

"He's not wrong," Bluestreak murmured, his fingertips rubbing small circles on Prowl's armor.

"I know," Prowl replied. "But I need to work out what their plan is so I can keep us safe, **and** keep the humans safe, **and** keep the humans on our side, **and** keep the Decepticons from accumulating the energy they need to start up the cybermatter weapon. All of those items are of equal importance and..." He vented softly. "They may be mutually exclusive goals."

As the Decepticon attacks continued, the relations between the Autobots and the humans became more complicated. Originally, the presence of Cybertronians on the planet was to be kept a secret, mostly at the request of the leaders of the various human governments. However, it was a secret that was becoming harder and harder to keep as more evidence for the presence of aliens piled up. Plus, not all of the polities on the planet agreed on the secrecy; while some of them believed that the Autobots were, indeed, working to protect humans, other governments had decided that any alien was a bad alien. They didn't care that it was only the Decepticons killing their citizens.

Stopping the Decepticons and resolving the danger posed by the cybermatter weapon became more and more of an urgent need with every passing day.

Bluestreak knew that many plans had been drafted and discarded in the Autobots' attempt to stop the Decepticons' attacks, and to stop them from building the reserves of energy they needed to activate the cybermatter generator. Barricade was questioned on an almost daily basis, but as time went on even he admitted that the information he was able to provide was becoming stale. For example, Skyfire had been sent on a surveillance mission to the Earth's moon to corroborate where Barricade claimed the Decepticon ship was hiding. But when Skyfire arrived, there was no ship at the location. That didn't mean Barricade had lied; instead, Skyfire detected ionized particles indicating that a large cruiser **had** been holding position there for some time.

Where the ship had been moved to, though, was anyone's guess.

And Megatron had not been seen since the first attack that the Autobots had tried to thwart. Barricade only shook his helm when questioned about that. "I guarantee that he's still leading the attacks, even if it's remotely. He controls..." Barricade's voice broke into static as he rubbed at his chest, his face twisting in discomfort before he shifted the focus of his words. "He uses the..." He grimaced again, then vented quietly. "Look, no military action takes place that Megatron either didn't order, or didn't approve. So even if he's not there, he's still in charge."

Prowl was practically run off his wheels as he tried to predict what action the Decepticons would take next, and to create a strategy to help the Autobots counter the action. He did finally accept Smokescreen's offer of help, and between them they were able to churn through all of the data much more quickly in a quest for answers.

One thing that did not change, though, was Prowl's avoidance of Barricade. "I am sorry for pushing you away before," Prowl told Bluestreak. "But I'm afraid that if I speak to Barricade, I'll only end up angry again." He dipped his wings apologetically. "I know this is causing you some stress but... I can't deal with him face to face. Not now. Not yet." He looked away. "I'm... I'm afraid of what I might say to him, and hurting you in the process. So it's for the best that I stay away."

"I totally understand, my light," Bluestreak said, giving Prowl a hug. "But you're still all right with me spending time with him? And... more?" While it was still difficult for Bluestreak and Barricade to have anything resembling 'private time,' they managed to steal a few minutes here or there in darkened corridors or even in the wash rack. Interfacing again was out of the question, but they found enough time to steal quick kisses, at least.

That would have to do for now.

Prowl nodded. "Yes," he said firmly. He leaned into Bluestreak's embrace. "My concerns about him are my own, and not yours. I can feel how happy he makes you. So long as that continues..." Prowl pulled a slow vent, and Bluestreak could sense his processor ticking through one of the calming exercises Smokescreen had taught him before he finished his thought. "So long as that continues, I am fine with your relationship." He smiled slightly. "And it does help that Smokescreen is keeping a sensor on how things are going between the two of you. That is a bit of a reassurance to me."

Bluestreak wasn't the only one spending more time with Barricade. Smokescreen had taken to chatting with the ex-Decepticon in the evenings when he was in the rec room. "All I know about him is what I've felt from you and Bluestreak, and the stories you've told me," Smokescreen told Prowl. "I just want to form my own impressions of him, and make sure our love-struck trine mate here isn't getting himself into too much trouble." He smiled at Bluestreak for a moment before looking back at Prowl. "And don't worry," Smokescreen added, gently chiming his chevron against Prowl's. "I'm not even remotely interested in him romantically. He is not my type at all."

It was late morning, about a month after the first Decepticon raid on a power plant, when Smokescreen was sitting with Bluestreak, Barricade and the humans in the rec room. Carly was working on her notes on Cybertronian processor architecture again, taking advantage of both Smokescreen's and Barricade's knowledge to fill in some of the gaps in the research she'd been doing with Djsuro. Meanwhile, Sam was teaching the mechs a card game. Bluestreak had taken note that the more time Carly spent with Barricade, the more comfortable Sam seemed to be in his presence.

"No, see, this is how the cards are normally ranked," Sam said, arranging several of the tiny cards on the table. "Ace, king, queen, jack, ten, nine. Right?" When Smokescreen nodded, Sam collected the cards and rearranged them. "But for the suit that's been called trump, they're ranked like this: jack, the other jack of the same colour, ace, king, queen, ten, nine."

"Why is the jack higher?" Barricade asked.

Sam shrugged. "Those are just the rules for this game."

"It's not all that different than Quintet," Smokescreen said. "It uses a few more cards, but it's the same basic idea. Bluestreak knows that game, right?" he asked, nudging Bluestreak with his elbow.

"Yeah. I learned it in Basic," Bluestreak said. He threw Barricade a sympathetic smile. "We never really played cards together... You know, before." He dipped his wings.

Barricade just shrugged. "No, we didn't," he said, then returned Bluestreak's smile with a grin. "But I'm willing to learn."

"Great!" Sam said. "Did you want to play a few hands so you can see how it works?"

Before anyone could reply, the ship's alarm sounded. "Force protection alert four. Repeat, force protection alert four. Deception activity detected. Alpha Team, Delta Team, Support Team Two, report to the ground bridge station in ten minutes for deployment. This is not a drill..."

Bluestreak groaned. "Again?" he said, standing up and giving Smokescreen a pat on the shoulder. "At least we're going together this time. Sorry, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "No problem. We can finish this later, unless we can convince someone else to play with us. Carly, you interested?" Carly shook her head, still focused on her notebook, so Sam turned to Barricade's armed guard for the day. "Sunstreaker, how about you?" Then he noticed the mech who was just entering the room. "Or Hound! Hey, Hound, want to learn how to play a game? We need two more!"

"Be careful," Barricade said as Bluestreak bent down to kiss him.

"Eh, they'll probably just be vanishing into their bridge just as we get there again," Smokescreen said. He threw a wave at Hound before tugging on Bluestreak's elbow. "But we should hurry. We'll catch you guys later!"

The two of them dodged past the Zehxaax Akkiel herd who was coming into the rec room just as they were leaving, and transformed as soon as they got into the hallway.

This time, the Decepticon activity was at a large plant located in a region called the Middle East. When the Autobots emerged from the ground bridge, they found a relatively large squad of Decepticons standing close to one of the buildings. A large hole had been blown in the side of the building, and the Decepticons were just loading battery packs into a large shuttleformer. Based on the small pile next to him it looked like they were almost done loading the stolen energy already.

But standing between the Autobots and the Decepticons was Megatron.

"Autobots, hold your fire!" Optimus Prime called. He walked forward a few steps and held up his hands, even while Ironhide kept his gun trained on the Decepticon leader. "Megatron. It's about time you showed your face again."

"Optimus. So good to see you again." Megatron scanned the Autobots arrayed behind the Prime, and a cruel smile crossed his face. "Bringing the same sort of sorry squad with you again, I see. Have you never thought you should bring more troops with you?"

"I'll show you sorry!" Cliffjumper yelled. He lifted his gun, causing every Decepticon standing behind Megatron to raise theirs, until Skyfire put a large hand on Cliffjumper's shoulder.

Bluestreak could feel Smokescreen tense, ready to spring into action in case his defensive mod was needed. But Bluestreak's attention was pulled back to Megatron when the Decepticon leader laughed, throwing his helm back.

"Such spark!" Megatron called in delight. "Perhaps it is a good thing that you are here, little Autobot, instead of back at your ship." Then he held a hand to his audial. "Now, Starscream."

Bluestreak lifted his rifle and looked skyward apprehensively, but there was nothing in the darkening sky overhead except a wisp of cloud.

"Enough of this." The Prime took a step forward. "Stand down, and leave the power cells behind."

"You're hardly in a position to make demands, Prime," Megatron said. " **Especially** now that you will have no place to go back to."

Bluestreak felt his armor prickle at Megatron's words. _What does he mean by that?_ Bluestreak sent over the combat channel. Smokescreen glanced at him and shrugged, radiating as much confusion as Bluestreak was feeling.

As Megatron spoke, the Decepticons finished loading the shuttleformer, and his cargo bay closed with a bang. A glowing green circle opened in the air beside the shuttleformer, and he fired his thrusters to accelerate towards the bridge opening.

The Prime surged forward, lifting his weapon. "Autobots! Attack! Don't let them get away! Target the transport with the power cells!"

Bluestreak dropped to a knee, lifting his rifle to a ready position and arming the missiles loaded in his launchers. All around him, the other Autobots did the same, but Bluestreak's missile launched first. Even as the shuttleformer vanished into the ground bridge, Bluestreak's missile chased after it, disappearing into the bridge's maw with a flash of light.

As soon as his missile entered the ground bridge, Bluestreak refocused his aim on the Decepticon leader. But the moment he had Megatron targeted, Bluestreak felt a surge of alarm from Prowl, one that quickly ramped into mortal fear.

_Prowl!_

Bluestreak's shot went wide as his concentration was broken by his bond mate's emotions.

With another glance, Bluestreak saw that his other trine mate had also felt Prowl's fear. Smokescreen quickly opened a comm line to Prowl, copying in Bluestreak. "Prowl? What's wrong?"

But the comm did not connect, and Smokescreen did not receive an answer from Prowl. Over the bond they both felt his terror peak once more.

Even as the Autobots peppered the Decepticons with blaster fire, the Decepticons made their retreat. Megatron followed, raising his fusion cannon and firing a blast at the Prime, who had to duck out of the way, spoiling his own shot. Just as he reached the threshold of the ground bridge, Megatron laughed again. "You are so far from home, Prime. Such a shame you aren't closer to your ship. Perhaps you should check on your other troops! If you **can** , that is."

With another cackle of laughter, Megatron disappeared into the bridge, and it closed behind him.

"Prime! Something's wrong back at the _Ark_ ," Smokescreen said. He tried to raise the _Ark_ again, this time trying Blaster directly, but once more the comm wouldn't connect. "Prowl... Something happened, and I can't get a comm through to anyone."

While the Prime and Ironhide also tried to raise the _Ark_ , Prowl's fear seemed to settle. Bluestreak could feel him shifting back into work mode, although a low hum of concern and anxiety continued to ripple through the connection. Bluestreak tried hard not to let his door wings droop as he looked at Smokescreen. "What do you think happened?" he asked quietly.

Smokescreen shook his helm. "Whatever it was, it seems to be over."

"Uh, Prime?" Bumblebee was watching up the road leading into the power plant, where several large military vehicles had pulled up to block access to the road. On the other side of the military vehicles, a crowd of humans had gathered, some of them holding up their communication devices to film what was happening. "We're getting a lot of attention here."

The Prime looked down the road, then at the ruined building where the Decepticons had stolen the energy they needed for their weapon. His hesitation lasted only a moment before he turned to the Autobots' large shuttleformer. "Skyfire, we need you to return us to the _Ark_ as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir," Skyfire said with a salute before transforming and opening his cargo bay.

Bumblebee looked back up the road and frowned. "Well, so much for keeping a low profile," he said as they all climbed into the shuttleformer's hold.

Smokescreen slung his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. "We'll get back to him," he murmured into Bluestreak's audial. He paused, thinking, and then added, "We'll get back to both of them."

* * *

The flight back to the _Ark_ only took a few hours at the speed Skyfire could travel, but to Bluestreak it felt like it took forever.

The interior of Skyfire's cargo hold was cramped. Bluestreak silently mused that it was a good thing the other three mechs on his deployment team were mini-bots, or else the trip back would have been even more crowded. As it was, Bluestreak was pressed into Smokescreen's side for the whole trip back, which was fine with both of them. Smokescreen had slung his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders, and they held each other close.

Bluestreak let himself sink deeply into the bond during the trip back, both as a way of soothing himself, and so that he'd be immediately aware of any changes in Prowl's emotional state. Aside from the muted undercurrent of distress coming from his trine mate, Bluestreak could only sense the familiar sense of Prowl focusing on his work: running analyses, prioritizing items, making plans.

Whatever had happened, Prowl was in the thick of trying to deal with it.

They were about fifteen minutes out from the Ark when Skyfire told his passengers that they were close enough to receive short-range text pings. "Red Alert is telling me that they sustained an attack from the Decepticons," Skyfire said. "The comm towers are down, and so is Blaster. I should have visuals in a minute or so."

Bluestreak immediately sent a ping to Prowl, copying Smokescreen. _Prowl! Are you all right? We'll be there soon!_

In the thirty seconds it took for Prowl to reply, Bluestreak felt like he aged a million years. Finally, Prowl's reply came through. _I am safe. The ship is badly damaged, and there are casualties. We're working to free as many as we can from the wreckage. I will see you when you arrive._ Prowl's emotions were firmly fixed in work mode, and any worries he had were shoved to the side so he could concentrate.

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen, feeling his other bond mate's anxiety ramp up higher alongside his own. "Wreckage?" he asked. "What did the 'Cons do?"

A minute later, Skyfire activated the screen inside his cargo hold. "I have visuals. This is what we're coming into," he said. His deep voice was solemn.

The _Ark_ was almost unrecognizable. The ship had been set down a year before in a deep canyon, hidden from both aerial view and any vantage points that a human might casually use. But the sheer cliff beside the ship was now blasted free of the trees and brush that had covered it, and the whole wall had come down on top of it. Everything from the bridge backwards to the stubby wings of the cruiser was buried in deep rubble. What little of the top of the ship they could see had been scoured clean of comm towers and other sensors, marked with the telltale blackened spots of blaster fire. Meanwhile, three of the six engines were crushed, left as only smoking ruins.

Bluestreak's hand found its way into Smokescreen's.

"Prowl's fine," Smokescreen murmured. Everything about him conveyed comfort, from his tone to his emotions to the firm grip he took of Bluestreak's hand.

Bluestreak nodded. Prowl was fine. Smokescreen was fine. Bluestreak was fine.

But there was one mech whose status was still unknown.

When Skyfire landed, Prowl was waiting for them just outside the ramp leading into the _Ark_. Smokescreen swept Prowl into an embrace, and his cool demeanor faded as he held him close. "You gave us quite the scare, gorgeous," Smokescreen said, oblivious to the other mechs rushing by into the _Ark_. Whatever control Smokescreen had been using to restrain his emotions fractured, letting his utter relief at seeing Prowl safe burn through their bond. "We were worried."

"I'm unharmed," Prowl replied, but he allowed Bluestreak to pull him into the same tight embrace without complaint. "I've never been in any sort of situation like that and..." He vented softly. "I think I may have fresh appreciation for what both of you went through as combat mechs."

"I'm just so happy you're safe," Bluestreak murmured into Prowl's audial. Finally having Prowl in his arms was finally letting his spark settle a bit. But a swirl of worry remained.

When Bluestreak finally released him, Prowl flicked his door wings out purposefully. "We were attacked by approximately twenty Decepticon Seekers. Based on what Barricade has told us, that is their entire air force on this planet." Prowl's voice became steadier as he spoke. "Their attack seemed precise: the bridge, the engines, the comm arrays... And then the mountain on top of us." Prowl turned and glanced up at the now-bare ridge overhead that used to screen them from the sky, before leaning against Bluestreak again. "I was on the bridge, talking to Blaster. I'd just walked back to my own terminal when..." A shudder went through his frame. "They're working on getting Blaster out, but he's badly damaged."

"What can we do?" Smokescreen asked, looking towards the _Ark_. "Where do you want us to start?"

Prowl pulled another vent and stood up straight. Bluestreak could practically feel Prowl shoving his own experiences aside so he could work. "There are many crew members still trapped, and many more are injured," Prowl said. "We're working to free them as quickly as we can, but we need all the help we can get. Grapple will assign you to a work team, so-"

"Prowl, where's Cade?" Bluestreak asked.

Smokescreen's optics widened slightly. "When we were called up, Barricade was in the rec room. We saw the _Ark_ from the air, and it looks like that area of the ship took heavy damage."

Prowl looked from Smokescreen, then to Bluestreak. A flare of concern flashed through all of the purpose and focus he had just been projecting. "The rec room is... crushed. We know there are crew members trapped in there, but I didn't know..."

"He's still in there?" Bluestreak quickly pinged Sunstreaker, remembering that the yellow frontliner had been Barricade's armed escort for the day. When he received only an error message in response, Bluestreak grabbed Prowl by the shoulders. "Prowl! Is Cade still in the rec room?"

"I don't know!" Prowl's optics were wide, and he shook his helm slightly. "We're still in the process of accounting for everyone, and because he doesn't have a comm signal he wasn't on my initial list, and Red Alert is busy making sure the base is secured, and... I mean, we were looking for **everyone** , but I didn't remember that..." Prowl's door wings fell, and he dropped his gaze. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry."

Before Prowl had even finished speaking, Bluestreak turned and started running towards the ramp to the _Ark_. He transformed and fell to his wheels as soon as he got clear of his bond mates, then gunned his engine to his top speed.


	62. Search and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots scramble to find their friends after the Decepticons' attack on their ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter has been edited from the version that was originally posted last week. I realized that I had put the chapter break in a bad place, so I added an additional scene at the end of the chapter to better explain what had happened at the _Ark_ and set up this chapter.
> 
> If you have not already read that new portion, go back to [the previous chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908962/chapters/68846844) and begin reading from the scene break (the horizontal line) about halfway down the page to catch up with where we're at, then come back to this chapter to find out what happens next! Sorry for any confusion. 💗

The inside of the _Ark_ was ordered chaos. Autobots and organics were running and driving everywhere, calling out instructions and information to each other. Cybertronians with truck modes were carrying chunks of rock and metal away, while organic crew scurried here and there, intent on their missions. An acrid scent of burning metal and singed wire stung Bluestreak's sensors as he drove towards the ramp leading down to the rec room, and a pall of dust hung in the air.

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, he saw that the passage to the rec room was blocked. The upper level of the ship had collapsed, accordioning down onto the decks below... and onto the rec room.

Bluestreak transformed as he approached the collapsed section of the hallway, dodging around crew members who were helping move the debris. "Sideswipe! Where's Sunstreaker?" he called as soon as he caught sight of the red mech.

Sideswipe only spared a glance at Bluestreak as he continued moving chunks of metal and rubble from the pile beside Pipes, who was helping Huffer cut through the debris. "He's in there," he said, grunting as he lifted a boulder and placed it in Wideload's cargo bed. "His comm array is disabled to save energy. I guess his power core's been damaged. But before Ratchet told him to power that down, he was mostly just griping about his paint job." Sideswipe lifted another boulder, then waited while Pipes finished cutting through a girder. "He'll be all right once he gets out of there, I think. We've both had worse."

The red mech sounded confident, but Bluestreak had known his friend long enough to recognize that the narrow furrow between his optics meant that Sideswipe was worried about his brother.

"Did he say anything about Barricade?" Bluestreak asked, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice.

Sideswipe glanced at Bluestreak again and nodded, but his expression twisted into a grimace. "Ratchet did a scan and said there were three heat readings that he could see. We know Sunny's one of them, and Teebs said Hound's in there, too. But Sunny said there were a lot of others in the rec room: Barricade, an Akkiel, the humans..." He shook his helm and put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "But hey, if some of those people are close together, their heat signatures might blend together, right? We'll get them all out."

Bluestreak clenched his jaw and nodded. "Yeah," he said. He relentlessly shoved aside the what-ifs that rose in his processor. "Is Ratchet coming back? Will he do another scan when we get further in?"

Sideswipe nodded again and looked up the ramp. "Yeah. I guess Ratchet needed to go check on Blaster. The bridge took a direct hit. But Hoist should be back soon, as soon we we've made some progress getting through this part."

Just then, Trailbreaker hurried down the ramp, a few shovels in his hands. "Did you break through yet?" he called as he reached the bottom of the ramp. "Can you see anything?"

"Not yet. We're working as fast as we can," Huffer grumbled, finishing up another cut on the large beam he and Pipes were working on.

"It'll be a while yet. Once we're through this beam it should go a bit faster, at least until we reach the next one," Pipes said. He looked behind him at the three mechs who were waiting for more debris to move out of the way, and nodded. "I know you've all got mechs you're looking for in there. We're working on it."

Bluestreak looked at Trailbreaker, who was shifting from pede to pede. When Trailbreaker noticed Bluestreak's glance, he gave him a half smile. "Hound," he said, then looked back at the wall of rubble in front of them. "He's in there. Offline. Still alive, but..." His shoulders fell.

Bluestreak nodded and put a hand on Trailbreaker's shoulder. He understood how Trailbreaker felt. "I'm sure we'll get him out soon."

Sideswipe took two of the shovels from Trailbreaker, and handed one to Bluestreak. "Let's work on getting some of this smaller stuff cleared to make room. Once they get through that large beam we're going to want some space to move rubble."

As Bluestreak took the shovel from Sideswipe, Smokescreen pinged him. _Are you all right? Prowl's briefing the Prime on what's happening, and Ratchet wants me down in Medical. At least that didn't get damaged. He said there are a few mechs who need someone with them right now until they can get through the urgent triage._

 _I'm fine_ , Bluestreak replied. _I'm helping clear the way to the rec room. We know Barricade's in there. There's a few other mechs trapped in there, too._

Smokescreen sent an acknowledgement, then added: _Prowl feels rotten, you know. He didn't really forget about Barricade. He's just been so busy with everything to coordinate, he needed to prioritize the tasks, and... He's sorry._

 _I get it._ Bluestreak vented quietly as he replied to Smokescreen. _Prowl needed to think about everyone, not just Cade. I get it, I do._ Prowl's duty to the Autobots had been a part of their lives for so long that Bluestreak hardly ever thought about it anymore. There wasn't any sense in feeling resentful about it.

 _Then you should tell him that._ Smokescreen's reply was sent with a nudge over the bond. _Because he thinks you think he didn't look for Barricade on purpose._ Smokescreen's presence twined with his for a moment, nudging him again with a brush of affection and exasperation. _One of these days I'm going to sit both of you down to talk about communication skills._

Bluestreak's optics widened. He felt along the bond for Prowl. He could sense Prowl was still in 'work mode', collecting data and evaluating it and making decisions on the fly. Maybe he was still talking to the Prime. But underneath Prowl's purpose-driven emotions ran a thick current of guilt.

Prowl did not exactly flinch back from Bluestreak's touch on the bond, but his presence shrank slightly, as if drawing into himself.

Bluestreak pinged Prowl, tagging the message with a glyph of love. _Prowl... I love you, my light. I don't blame you for this. Please don't think that. You had so much to do, and so much to think about._ Bluestreak sent his message with as much confidence and reassurance as he could muster, even as he watched Pipes and Huffer make another careful cut to free the girder from the metal and rock surrounding it. Bluestreak closed his optics and pulled a vent, running through one of his calming exercises, and focused on the fact that Prowl was safe. _I am glad you're all right. That was the first and most important thing to me and Smokescreen when we felt your fear during the attack._ He opened his optics and looked at the blocked hallway again. _Focus on what you need to do now. I love you._

Prowl did not reply, but sent a hesitant brush of gratitude and love.

Bluestreak helped Sideswipe and Trailbreaker gather up smaller pieces of rubble as they waited for the next larger pieces to be freed. As Bluestreak deposited another shovelful on the pile at the top of the ramp for Wideload to move outside the ship, he noticed the Zehxaax herd clustered against the wall. Several of the members were missing legs, and a few had cracks in their carapaces that were leaking thick green ichor. The Povian doctor Lurril was applying tension bandages to the larger cracks in the Akkiels' chitin as he murmured to them in his soft voice. A musky scent of grief filled the hallway.

"Am I miscounting or is Zehxaax missing a member?" Bluestreak asked Sideswipe when he returned to the bottom of the ramp for another load of rock. Then he remembered what Sideswipe had said about an Akkiel being trapped in the rec room, and his wings sagged. "Oh... Is that the Akkiel you were talking about?"

Sideswipe nodded, and his frown deepened. "They were in the rec room, too. You know how fast Akkiel can be? Well, Sunny said they ran, but not all their members got out in time. One of them is either unconscious or dead in there." He glanced up the ramp, where the Akkiel herd was just out of sight. "They all got hurt, but they refuse to leave until their missing member's pulled out."

Bluestreak's spark twisted again, his worry and grief only intensifying with each new bit of information. Zehxaax was the most personable and friendly Akkiel herd on the ship. He knew it could take herds a while to recover from losing a member, and he hoped that its personality wouldn't change too much if its missing member was dead.

Taking another vent, Bluestreak shook out his door wings. They'd been away from Cybertron – and from the war – for so long, Bluestreak had almost forgotten what it felt like to deal with the death of friends.

He did not relish the reminder of the sensation.

When Pipes and Huffer finished cutting through the girder, the rescuers leapt into action again, lifting the freed debris and moving it out of the way. It took hours of cutting and moving and drilling, but they finally reached the entrance of the rec room. Then, a few minutes later, they heard a voice.

"Took you long enough." Sunstreaker's voice sounded weak, but even his irritable tone brought a cheer from everyone working in the hallway.

"At least we were working to get you out. All you were doing was laying there like a speed bump," Sideswipe called back. The worried furrow in between his optics was still there, but a smile had reappeared on his face.

As the brothers continued slinging good-natured barbs at each other, the workers finally reached Sunstreaker. As soon as there was enough room beside him, Sideswipe was there, holding his brother's hand as everyone else lifted away the beam that was pinning him to the floor.

As Hoist checked out Sunstreaker's vitals in preparation for moving him to Medical, Pipes and Huffer continued clearing their way into the rec room. Trailbreaker guided them, able to sense Hound's position under the rubble, until they uncovered one of Hound's limp hands... And the sharp leg of an Akkiel.

Hound was indeed offline, with a large dent in his helm that had likely placed him into stasis. One of his arms was locked straight, holding his torso up from the floor at an angle. It looked like he had been trying to protect the Akkiel that had taken shelter under his arm. But a slab of metal had come down, crushing one of Hound's legs and the Akkiel's abdomen, leaving the organic dead.

As they cleared the debris around Hound so that he could be moved, Hoist plugged into his medical port and ran a diagnostic. A moment later the tech looked up at Trailbreaker, who knelt beside his bond mate, holding his limp hand to his cheek. "He needs fuel and a medical reboot, but after we rebuild his leg I think he'll be just fine," Hoist said. "Ratchet will start the reboot as soon as we get him back to Medical."

Trailbreaker nodded and drew a shaky vent. "He'll ask about the Akkiel. He'll be upset that it died," he said quietly.

"We know he tried his best," Bluestreak said, putting his hand on Trailbreaker's shoulder. "It doesn't look like there's anything else he could have done."

Trailbreaker nodded, then looked up at the Zehxaax herd, which had come down the ramp to collect its dead member. The herd made quiet clicking noises as it picked up its member's corpse. One of the members paused by Hound, stroking an antennae down Hound's damaged leg, then tapped Trailbreaker's hip. "We are grateful/indebted to Hound/Green/Four Wheels," the member said through its vocoder, and a complex scent filled the air. Bluestreak wasn't very good at identifying the more complicated pheromones Akkiel used, but he thought this one smelled like affection. "Part Three/Yellow/Worker was not alone when it died/was separated. Give friend/mate/counterpart our thanks?" When Trailbreaker nodded silently, the member hissed softly before rejoining the herd. Then Zehxaax slowly made its way back up the ramp, its speed hampered by its injured members.

As Hoist prepared to transport Hound, Bluestreak looked at the still-daunting wall of rubble facing them. Pipes had zeroed in on where the next heat signature was, and he and Huffer were discussing how best to tackle the next part of the job. As they talked, Bluestreak picked up another shovelful of debris and started to move it back up the ramp.

He paused when he heard a faint noise, almost below the threshold of his sensors. Fanning his wings, he focused on the wall of rock and metal, straining to listen.

Nothing. Maybe it was his imagination. He turned and walked his load of rocks back to the top of the ramp.

Bumblebee appeared, bearing a tray filled with cubes of fuel. "Quick break. Ratchet's orders," he said, handing the cubes out to everyone who was working. "They sent me around to make sure no one drops into stasis. They've got enough going on without having to deal with that." He smiled as he handed one to Bluestreak. "Just one each and you can get back to work, he said."

Bluestreak took the offered cube, trying not to scowl. Every moment they wasted drinking fuel was a moment that Barricade was still stuck under all of that rubble. But Hoist had said that the one heat signature left in the rec room was faint but distinct, and Bluestreak's HUD had been blinking with a low fuel warning for the past hour.

Perhaps taking a quick break was a good idea.

As he sipped at his fuel, Bluestreak listened as Pipes and Huffer asked Bumblebee about how the work on the other levels was going. The bridge had been mostly cleared, enough for them to determine that even if they repaired the engines, the ship wouldn't be flying anywhere any time soon. Now they were working on clearing the way into the decks just below the bridge. The crew quarters that had been damaged by the falling debris were clear, and now some crews were working on clearing their way into the ship's shield control room and long-range communications arrays. But the big focus was on the shuttle bay at the bottom of the ship, which had been almost completely destroyed.

At least a dozen mechs and organics were still missing. With Teletraan 1 offline, the only thing they could go on were heat signatures. There were at least seven heat signatures coming from the shuttle bay, so that's where the focus had turned to.

Whoever was giving off the single heat signature left in the rec room was important, but there were more people trapped lower down. It made sense that almost all of the attention had turned to where the rescuers could do the most good.

Bluestreak tried not to feel bitter about that.

To distract himself, Bluestreak scanned the bond again. Smokescreen's presence was muted, but not blocked; he'd said he was providing support to mechs who were injured, or who'd lost friends. There hadn't been any official announcements yet, but based on what Bluestreak had overheard as they'd worked, Slapdash and Cloudraker had both died, along with two Povians who worked in the greenhouse in the mid decks. Bluestreak wondered if Smokescreen was helping Fastlane deal with his brother's passing.

He hoped so.

Meanwhile, Prowl's presence was all focus and concentration. But when Bluestreak let himself slip deeper into the bond, he could feel that undercurrent of emotions he had felt from Prowl before, of guilt and worry, of self-reproach and remorse. Bluestreak twined his presence with Prowl's, gently easing Prowl away from those thoughts, and surrounding him with love and confidence.

After a long pause, Prowl's spark relaxed, backing away from the blame he was placing on himself for how badly everything had gone.

Bluestreak drained the rest of his fuel and looked at the cube dully, once again wishing that he could simply sense how Barricade was doing, trapped under all that rubble. As he pulled back from his bond mates, he brushed his awareness past the place where Barricade should have been.

It felt even emptier than usual.

Without a word, Bluestreak climbed to his pedes and started shifting the smaller rocks again, or the ones he could lift himself, anyway. The faster they cleared the rubble out of the way, the sooner they would get to the next collapsed beam... And maybe Barricade.

He paused when he heard a faint noise again, coming from somewhere inside the rec room. He could hear it better this time; it sounded like something tapping, or maybe metal creaking. The sound stopped a moment later, and Bluestreak looked up at the rumpled ceiling in worry. "The decks above us aren't going to come down on us, are they?" he asked, turning to look at the other mechs, who were still finishing their fuel. "I'm hearing something weird."

Huffer shook his helm. "Grapple's keeping an optic on things, making sure nothing's shifting or that no part of it's under too much strain. We're sending him updates of our scans every five minutes." He took another drink from his cube and scowled. "I'd prefer to have cleared everything from the top down, but then it might be days before we reached the worst areas of the ship."

Bluestreak silently nodded and scooped up another shovelful of rocks.

The others joined him a few minutes later, and they started making progress again. They were joined by Trailbreaker and Sideswipe, who had both been told to vacate Medical. "Hound's awake, and stable. He'll be all right," Trailbreaker said with a smile. "And the doctors really need room to work. There wasn't any sense in my staying there." He hefted a large chunk of plasteel into Wideload's bed. "Besides, I know how worried you are about Barricade."

Sideswipe nodded in agreement. "Let's get Tall, Dark and Complicated out of there."

Bluestreak smiled and lifted his wings. "Thanks, guys."

Huffer faced the jumble of metal and rocks and ran another scan. "There's definitely a heat reading coming from this direction," he said, pointing at a jumble of rock and metal identical to all the rock and metal they'd been moving. "If we don't run across another bulkhead, we should be there soon."

They worked silently for about fifteen minutes, speaking only to give each other directions and to coordinate moving a large piece of decking. As he bent to pick up his side of a smaller supporting beam, Bluestreak stopped and listened again.

It was that strange sound that he'd heard before, coming from the wall of debris just in front of them.

_Tap tap tap. Thump thump thump. Tap tap tap._

"Does anyone else hear that?" Bluestreak asked. His spark lurched in hope. He fanned his wings out, trying to narrow down where the sound was coming from. "That noise I heard. It's happening again."

Sideswipe stepped up to the jumble of debris and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hello? Barricade? You in there?"

Bluestreak strained his sensors as he scanned for any sound. There... He **definitely** heard something that time. "Call him again," Bluestreak said quietly.

"Hey! Barricade! Give us a sign!" Sideswipe yelled.

Then Bluestreak heard a faint, muffled voice. It sounded like...

Bluestreak's optics shot open in shock. "The humans!" Bluestreak exclaimed. "It's the humans, I'm sure of it!" His spark lurched again, trying not to sink into disappointment that the voice was not Barricade's. "We've got to get them out of there!"

Sideswipe grabbed another chunk of debris. "How did they not get crushed?" he said with a grunt as he lifted the rumpled metal.

"Maybe... Maybe they climbed under the table or something," Bluestreak said.

"How long's it been since the attack? Six hours?" Pipes asked, pulling aside some loose rock so that it could be moved away.

"Ten," said Huffer.

Trailbreaker turned towards the ramp and transformed. "I'll get Lurril," he called as he drove up the ramp. "They might be hurt!"

"At the very least they'll be hungry," Sideswipe said, grabbing another chunk of debris. "Don't humans have to eat every two hours?"

Pipes heaved a large chunk of rock aside, then called out in excitement. "I found someone!" He started cutting into the decking he had uncovered. "Let's get this off of him!"

It was a fender, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The tire beneath it was flat, and the frame was pressed against the ground, its shocks fully compressed. A crash bar. A hood, emblazoned with a dusty purple sigil. A cracked windshield. And then-

"Help! Help us! Get us out of here!"

Smacking her hands against the inside of the cracked plasteel window, Carly yelled for help. Beside her, Sam pounded the dusty windows with his fists.

"Get his door open!"

"Find a pry bar!"

As Sideswipe and Huffer worked to get Barricade's doors open, Bluestreak's optics swept over his ex-bond mate's shattered frame. A thick piece of metal had come down on his back end, flattening his rear window and trunk. Pipes and Hoist started shoving the metal off of Barricade to give the other two mechs room to get the humans out, revealing a crushed mess of armor.

But all Bluestreak could focus on was how grey Barricade was.

No. Not again. **Not again!** He couldn't lose him again!

 _Blue, what's wrong?_ Smokescreen's ping jerked Bluestreak's thoughts from the spiral they'd been falling into.

 _Did they find..._ Prowl's ping came on the heels of Smokescreen's, more hesitantly, but accompanied by a cascade of worry.

As his audials were assaulted by the creaking agony of a door being forced open on bent and crushed hinges, Bluestreak could only stare at Barricade's greyed form, trying to force himself to move.

 _Blue, beautiful, talk to me. Is it Barricade?_ Smokescreen tried again.

 _Bluestreak? Tell me what's wrong._ Prowl's message was sent with another swirl of anxiety.

 _It's..._ Bluestreak went to his knees in front of Barricade, his hands hovering over his hood for a moment before he settled his hands down on his plating.

It was warm.

Relief flowed through Bluestreak like a hydrogen flare, sweeping from his helm to his pedes. He pressed his hands firmly down onto Barricade's hood, his hands sliding slightly and revealing the thick layer of dust that covered him. He bowed his helm, oblivious to the excited chatter of the humans as they were pulled from Barricade's interior. He pressed his chevron to Barricade's bumper, venting a silent prayer of thanks as he replied to his trine mates.

_It's Cade. We found him. He's alive._


	63. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack, Bluestreak tries to find equilibrium.

When Bluestreak finally collapsed into the berth he shared with his trine, almost a full day later, he was exhausted, covered in a layer of dust and grime... and alone.

As the Povian doctor Lurril carefully wrapped Carly's wrist, which had been lightly damaged, Sam watched as Pipes and Hoist carefully lifted Barricade's rear wheels onto a tow dolly. Bumblebee crouched nearby, having been summoned when his human friends had been found.

"We heard some explosions, and then the ship started shaking," Sam said. "We weren't sure what was happening, but suddenly the alarms went off, and the lights went out, and I saw the bugs – err, the Akkiel run past us towards the hallway." He looked down at the cup of water in his hands, and Bluestreak noticed that his hands were shaking. "There was another explosion, and then suddenly everything turned upside down, and..."

"And then he scooped us up in his hands. He must have transformed around us because suddenly we were inside him. Ow!" Carly winced as Lurril started to wind another bandage around her wrist. She nodded when Lurril paused, saying, "That's fine. It only hurt for a moment." She looked up at the mechs gathered around her. "And then everything went dark."

Sam lifted his cup and took several gulps of water before lowering it again. Then he looked up at Bluestreak and the Prime, who had arrived with Bumblebee. "Look, I know I had my doubts about him, especially after everything you'd told us about the Decepticons. But he risked his life to save us." Sam leaned back into Bumblebee's leg, watching as Hoist lifted Barricade's front end and began to tow him out of the wreckage of the rec room. "We would have been crushed to death if he hadn't grabbed us." He looked up at the Prime again. "He... He'll be ok, won't he?"

"Ratchet is one of the finest doctors in the galaxy," the Prime said. "He will make every effort to ensure Barricade survives."

Bluestreak felt his spark do a funny flip at the Prime's words. He turned to watch as Hoist slowly maneuvered his way into what was left of the hallway.

_Please let Cade survive._

Carly reached out with her undamaged hand and placed it on Sam's arm, then looked up at the Prime. "Please give him our thanks," she said. "Sam's right. We wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for him. We owe him."

The Prime nodded solemnly. "I will ensure that he gets that message."

After retrieving Barricade and the humans from the rec room, a detailed heat scan of the space remaining revealed no more hot spots that might indicate survivors, mech or organic. Bluestreak and the others who had been working on the rec room were all reassigned to help clear the shuttle bay, where there were indications that some crew members still waited to be rescued.

It took hours, but they finally freed everyone. The Prime had even come down to the bay to use his great strength to help shift metal beams and plasteel plating so they could find everyone they could.

In the end, every single person who was on board the ship was accounted for. The list of deceased was not nearly as long as Bluestreak had feared it would be when he'd first seen the devastation the Decepticons had wreaked on the _Ark_ , but it was long enough. Too long.

When he was finally released from duty, and Prowl ~~ordered~~ told him to recharge, Bluestreak first checked the status of Medical to see if visitors were allowed. However, the manual sign hanging on the door (scrawled in green paint because Teletraan 1 was still offline) indicated that no visitors were being allowed at the moment.

With nothing else to do, Bluestreak decided to follow Prowl's ~~command~~ advice and try to get some recharge.

It was surprisingly easy. Despite the churn of anxiety he was feeling about Barricade, and the soft murmurs of his trine mates' presences in his spark, Bluestreak was so exhausted that he fell into recharge almost immediately. When he woke briefly, several hours later, he found that Smokescreen was deep in recharge beside him, sprawled out on his back with his wings pinned under him like he did when he was especially tired.

Smokescreen's face was slack, his mouth hanging open as it usually did when he was completely offline. It was no wonder Smokescreen was so tired; although he hadn't been doing physical work like Bluestreak had been, he had been doing emotional and thoughtful work, soothing and calming crew members in Medical, some of whom were grievously injured. Almost all of them, except for the youngest organics, had experienced the horrors of war on Cybertron, but a decade of peace had lowered some of their defenses.

Bluestreak knew that Smokescreen cared for everyone he took under his wing, mech and organic alike. He would listen for hours to someone's stories if he thought they just needed someone to talk to. He offered advice when asked, and would stand steadfast in the face of someone's anger when he told them something unpleasant they needed to hear. All of that took its toll on him, but Bluestreak knew he wouldn't have Smokescreen any other way. It was part of what made him who he was, and why Bluestreak had fallen in love with him.

Bluestreak watched his bond mate for several minutes. Then he carefully softened his emotions and put up a partial block to keep from waking Smokescreen as he gently checked on Prowl.

Prowl was awake, somewhere on the ship. It didn't feel like he was working anymore. Instead, Prowl's spark was awash in a tumult of complex emotions: guilt and worry, anger and grief, relief and apprehension. Bluestreak reached out, slipping himself into the threads of Prowl's feelings, offering him comfort and love.

A moment later, Prowl's churning spark calmed, and he sent Bluestreak a touch of gratitude.

Settling himself between the presences of his bond mates in his spark, Bluestreak fell into another deep recharge.

It was another few hours later when he woke again. Smokescreen had shifted, now on his side with his arm thrown over Bluestreak's waist. He still looked and felt offline. Meanwhile, Prowl's emotions had shifted back into the quietly agitated state they had been in before.

Bluestreak checked his chronometer and found it was very early in the morning. He wondered if Medical was open for visitors yet. With Teletraan 1 offline, the only one way to know for sure was to go down there.

He was so focused on moving carefully and silently to extract himself from Smokescreen's embrace that he didn't notice the glimmer of light from Smokescreen's optics until his hand closed around his wrist. "Leaving so soon, beautiful?" Smokescreen murmured, his voice still thick with recharge.

Venting softly, Bluestreak leaned over and gave Smokescreen a kiss. "I'm just going to see if they're allowing visitors in Medical yet," he said.

"They are." Smokescreen's optics were marginally brighter now, but he still radiated fatigue over the bond. "They were letting people in when I left. Just a few at a time. It's early enough that there shouldn't be many crew members there." Smokescreen burrowed his way back into the cushions of their berth. "Go see Barricade. You were worrying about him even in your recharge."

"Really?" Bluestreak asked. When Smokescreen nodded, Bluestreak lowered his wings, remembering seeing the dark mech getting towed away by Hoist. "He was in pretty bad shape when we found him."

"I know. I was there in Medical when they brought him in. They started working on him right away." Smokescreen smiled, confidence swirling through their connection. "Ratchet's a miracle worker, but I know he won't waste time in a crisis on those he doesn't think he can save. The fact he got to work on Barricade right away tells me Ratchet thought he's salvageable. Remember that. He might need some time to recuperate, but I'm sure he'll be fine." Smokescreen reached out for Bluestreak's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "But if you need me, for anything... I'll be right here."

"I know." Bluestreak gave Smokescreen another quick kiss. "I know you will be."

By the time Bluestreak slipped out of their quarters, he could sense that Smokescreen was already back in recharge.

The corridors of the Ark were still covered in a layer of soot and dust, and a haze of smoke hung in the air. A few crew members walked or drove here and there, but otherwise the Ark was quiet.

It almost felt as though they were waiting for the next disaster to strike.

Then again, with no sensors, no communications, no ground bridge, and no shuttles... Maybe they were.

As Smokescreen promised, the door to Medical was open, although a Povian nurse was standing at the entrance. The furry creature nodded at Bluestreak and waved for him to go in. "No transforming inside, and please keep your voice down," she said, marking something on the tiny data pad she held in her hand. "You're allowed one hour, and then we'll ask you to leave."

"Thanks," Bluestreak whispered, and ventured into the darkened ward.

Medical was laid out with organics on one side, and mechs on the other. A few beds on either side had visitors, but Bluestreak was focusing on the berths on the mech side where there were no visitors. He didn't expect that the Decepticon defector would have anyone coming to see him.

As a result, Bluestreak almost looked past Barricade's berth, because a white and black mech sat beside him, with his door wings set low and his hands folded in his lap.

"Prowl?" Bluestreak murmured. When Prowl looked up at him, Bluestreak lifted his wings and gave him a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here," Bluestreak said honestly.

Prowl's optics were dim with fatigue, and standing this close to him, Bluestreak could feel his exhaustion. He looked back down at Barricade. "I knew you wouldn't want him to be alone," Prowl said quietly. He started to get up from his chair at Barricade's berthside. "I'll go now."

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to." Bluestreak put his hand on Prowl's shoulder. "I think I'd like the company, to be honest."

Prowl hesitated, then shook his helm and stood up. "I should go soon anyway. My hour is almost up," Prowl said. He gestured at the seat he'd vacated and waited while Bluestreak sat down. "And besides, I know you or Smokescreen will be on my case if I work myself into stasis," he added with a small smile.

Bluestreak returned Prowl's smile, but he felt it fade when he looked down at Barricade. "So... How is he? Did they tell you?" he asked.

The dark mech was offline, of course, with a disturbing number of monitors hooked into his systems. He was back in root mode, but the damage he'd suffered while in vehicle mode was plainly visible. His right leg was crushed, the armor removed and patches applied to the lines and cables that ran under his plating. His left leg was in much the same state, although his left pede was missing completely, and his leg ended in a mangled stump. His left door wing was bent and torn where they had opened it to free the humans, while the rest of him was covered in dents and gouges.

But Bluestreak could hear the faint hiss of his ventilation systems running, and when he gently brushed Barricade's hand, it was warm.

"I don't know for sure." Prowl's lips thinned to a single line, worry trickling through the bond. "Ratchet hasn't filed official casualty reports yet, but he should have them ready soon," Prowl said. Regret shaded itself into the anxiety he was broadcasting. "The other doctors and the nurses have been so busy I didn't get a chance to ask them. I'm sorry. I should have asked; I knew you'd want to know."

Bluestreak reached out and took Prowl's hand. "It's all right," he said, trying to sound and feel confident. "I'm sure they'd still be working on him if he was in any danger. Plus," he said, pointing at the array of monitors hooked into Barricade, "none of those are going bloop when they should be going bing."

That finally got a small, soft laugh out of Prowl, and Bluestreak felt something that was tight inside of him unwind slightly.

They watched Barricade for another minute before Prowl suddenly said, "He saved the humans." When Bluestreak looked up at him, he saw that Prowl's optics were fixed on Barricade's darkened ones. "He didn't have to. He chose to save them, knowing he would be in danger himself."

Bluestreak nodded, a glimmer of hope (of fixing what had once gone wrong, so long ago) flickering inside him. "He did! And... Prowl, he's not a bad spark," Bluestreak said. When Prowl's wings dipped lower, Bluestreak squeezed Prowl's hand. "He's not. You **know** he's not. You had a part of him inside you. He's just... He's just someone who made some really bad decisions."

Prowl lifted a brow ridge as he glanced at Bluestreak. "Helping to start a war that's killed billions is one Pit of a bad decision."

"Well... Yeah, all right, it was," Bluestreak said, dipping his own wings. "But he **knows** that it was a bad decision. And he said that if it wasn't for that loyalty coding, he would have bailed on the Decepticons ages ago. Getting rid of that coding, or at least partially blocking it..." Bluestreak gestured at the prone mech in front of them. "As soon as that was an option, he came here... To be with us." He looked back up at Prowl. "He changed his mind, Prowl. He wants to try to make things better again."

Prowl pulled in a vent of air as he stared at Barricade's silent form. "That was something the Prime has always been adamant about," he said softly, as if speaking to himself. "He said that we should give mechs a chance to change. He said we should give everyone the chance to see the error of their ways, and give them the space and time to fix their mistakes. Even Megatron." Prowl shook his helm, and a flare of frustration lit up the bond as he crossed his arms under his bumper. "I never saw the logic behind that. Some mechs are just bad to the core, and there is no way for them to come back from what they've done."

Bluestreak stared at Prowl, the hope he'd been feeling fading. "Do you... Do you think Barricade is bad to his core?" he asked.

"No," Prowl said immediately. He glanced at Bluestreak and his gaze softened. "No. Of course not. Like you said, I had a piece of him in my spark." Prowl's wings quivered behind him, and his optics fixed back on Barricade. "And I still love him. You know that." Prowl's words were spoken in a whisper.

"I know," Bluestreak replied. He ran his awareness around that empty place in his spark, and he felt Prowl flinch at the pain it evoked.

Prowl seemed to wilt slightly, then, and he leaned against Bluestreak's shoulder. "I still love him, Blue. I love him, but I can't forgive him. He may have changed his mind, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think I can trust him ever again."

And then the bond was swamped in sorrow, and Bluestreak felt Prowl's frame shake as he drew in a shuddering vent. Bluestreak stood up and threw his arms around Prowl, pulling him in for a tight embrace. He brushed his hand down Prowl's back as his bond mate buried his face into his collar faring. "It's all right, my light," Bluestreak murmured. "You don't have to forgive him. No one is asking you to do that."

Doubt flashed through their connection before settling, and Prowl sank into Bluestreak's arms. "I know," Prowl said. "But I am glad for both of your sakes that you have."

Bluestreak wasn't sure how long they stood there – surely it was just a minute or two – but at some point there was a soft, subtle shift in sound coming from the berth that Bluestreak couldn't immediately identify: maybe a quickening of a fan or a change in the hiss of air. Before Bluestreak could look, he felt Prowl go tense and alert again just before pulling away from him.

"Prowl?"

Barricade's voice was faint and rough, but it was free of static and feedback. His optics were dim as he looked up at Prowl, who was staring at him with his wings held awkwardly wide.

"Barricade," Prowl said. Prowl's presence in Bluestreak's spark went suddenly still, as if caught on a precipice between sorrow and anger.

Bluestreak curled his hand around Prowl's arm, as if that was enough to hold back anything Prowl was about to say. "Prowl, wait," Bluestreak said softly. Yes, Prowl had helped make accommodations for Barricade over the past few weeks, and had given his blessing for Bluestreak to take up with the dark mech again. But Prowl had not yet spoken directly to Barricade, not since that first day in the brig when he had poured all of his fury and grief into his words.

Prowl glanced at Bluestreak, sending him a wash of reassurance. "It's all right," Prowl said. Then he turned back to Barricade, and dipped his wings. "I am glad to see that you are alive, Barricade. Again." A flicker of a smile crossed Prowl's face. "And I am grateful that you saved the humans."

"They're all right?" Barricade's optics brightened slightly.

Prowl nodded. "They are completely unharmed, thanks to you."

Barricade closed his optics briefly. "Good," he said, his voice almost inaudible.

"And..." Prowl hesitated, but when Barricade's optics opened again, Prowl tipped his wings back upwards. "I did not mention this before, but I should have: I am very thankful that you were able to save Bluestreak and Smokescreen, when they were captured." His vocalizer caught, and he reset it. "I don't know what I would have done if anything would have happened to them. So... Thank you."

Barricade's optics had dimmed again, but he seemed to summon up more strength at Prowl's words. "I didn't want you to be alone, Prowl," he said.

Prowl made a strangled noise, and an eddy of distress filtered through the bond. He nodded, his motion jerky, and his engine made a high-pitched whine. He flicked his door wings upwards and looked at Bluestreak. "I... I have to go now."

Then Prowl fled into the darkness of Medical.

"You don't have to stay, Blue," Barricade said, obviously labouring to get his words out. "I'm not gonna be very good company. I'm pretty sure I'm going to slip back into recharge here in a minute."

Bluestreak sat down and picked up Barricade's hand, mindful of all the wires hooked into his systems. "Then I'll sit with you until that happens," Bluestreak said. "I'll be right here with you."

Barricade's gorgeous scarlet optics brightened once more before they slowly drifted closed.


	64. Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the attack on their ship, the Autobots plan their next steps, and progress is made towards fixing Barricade's loyalty coding.

While the Autobots struggled to recover from their losses, the Decepticons wasted no time in pressing their advantage.

In the days after the attack on the _Ark_ , the Decepticons stepped up their raids on human power plants, becoming more and more bold. Not only were they now collecting more energy than they had been able to before, unencumbered by the Autobots' interference, but they were taking no pains to hide from the humans.

The official announcement that the Earth was now host to an alien species, and that they had brought their war to the planet, did not go over well with a large portion of the planet's populace. The fact that the aliens could disguise themselves as regular Earth vehicles added to the growing number of conspiracy theories about the aliens that had sprouted up. The revelation that some "missing" people had actually been murdered by the aliens poured accelerant on the flames of the turmoil.

So now, not only were the Decepticons rapidly progressing towards being able to use their cybermatter weapon, but the Autobots were rapidly losing the public relations battle with their human allies. They needed to stop the Decepticons, and soon.

However, the Autobots were hindered by having limited communications, and almost no ability to travel anywhere quickly. There were no roads in and out of the remote area their ship was in, the ground bridge was still inoperative, and their two shuttles were both trapped in the severely damaged shuttle bay. Optimus Prime and his officers, including Prowl, spent long hours flying back and forth with Skyfire to visit with their allies in an attempt to salvage what they could of the relationship. It was exhausting and stressful work, which Prowl threw himself without hesitation.

But without good communications or a working ground bridge, Prowl knew there was very little the Autobots could do to stop the Decepticon attacks.

The _Ark's_ comms arrays and Teletraan 1 had been damaged and taken offline during the attack, along with other critical systems like the shuttle bay and the ground bridge. The strikes on the engines seemed to have been precisely targeted to take out the ground bridge room located nearby, leaving the engines themselves mostly undamaged. Wheeljack's analysis of the firing patterns the Seekers had used revealed that the strikes had been carefully targeted to cripple the Autobots' ability to move around and coordinate with their human allies, but not enough to destroy the ship.

"They easily could have destroyed the ship, and us," Prowl said the day after everyone had been accounted for. "They did one pass to take the shielding down, and they did a second pass to take out the ship's infrastructure. After blowing the engine cowling, they could easily have taken out our fuel reserves, which would have blown the whole ship sky high. But it looks like they carefully avoided doing that." Prowl fixed his gaze on Barricade, his processor and emotions firmly locked into 'work mode.' "I want to know **why**."

Barricade looked up at the Autobot officers gathered around his berth in Medical, and lifted his shoulders and door wings in a shrug. "I swear, if I knew what they were planning, I would tell you," he said. He plucked at the mesh blanket that covered the ruin of his lower legs, hiding them from view. "But the Seekers are very accurate in their attacks. You must know that from the war. If Starscream ordered them to pull their shots, he must have had a reason." Barricade glanced at Bluestreak, who was sitting next to him, holding his hand. "It's impossible for us to disobey a direct order from Megatron. If he says to do something, we are compelled to do it." His free hand drifted to his chest, as if on its own volition, and he narrowed his optics. "My guess – and it's just a guess – is that Megatron ordered an attack, and phrased it such a way as to give Starscream some wiggle room." He flinched, and the hand on his chest curled slightly, his talons raking gently over his plating. "After all, Starscream is still waiting for a... solution."

The Prime nodded. "Djusro said that he's making progress on that solution, but he's not quite there yet," he said.

Prowl's expression was stoic, but Bluestreak could feel the apprehension radiating from him as he looked down at his data pad. "The Decepticons must be getting close to having all of the energy they need to use the cybermatter weapon. They also know where our ship is, but Starscream chose not to destroy it when he could have, for reasons we can only speculate on." Prowl's optics flicked to Barricade before continuing. "Meanwhile, we are sitting here, practically helpless. We have no way to stop them from firing the weapon once they've obtained the energy needed, and we have no way to shield ourselves or the humans if they do fire it."

"And meanwhile, we still don't know where the 'Cons themselves are hidin'," Jazz grumbled. "If we could just figure out where they were, we could run an op to disable that weapon. But without that info, we're just stuck here, waitin' for them to come to us." The head of Special Operations put a hand on his hip as he gestured at the mech on the medical berth. "Barricade said they've got a huge cruiser. You'd think that with all the humans crawlin' on this rock, someone would have noticed somethin'."

Bluestreak wanted to say that no one had really noticed the Autobots' ship either, since they'd landed in a very remote location, but he still wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to be there for this discussion. On the other hand, no one had asked him to leave yet. So Bluestreak sat quietly and tried to be invisible.

He'd almost lost Barricade again. He wasn't quite ready to let go of him just yet.

Wheeljack stood across from Prowl with his arms crossed across his chest, drumming his fingers on the plating of his upper arm. He'd been lost in thought for most of the conversation, but suddenly started mumbling as though having a discussion with himself. "Ground bridges emit a burst of antineutrino particles when they open. If you get a reading of those particles right when the bridge opens, you can get an approximation of the position of the closest star when the other side of the bridge is opened." The rhythm he was tapping out on his arm changed. "Percy's pretty sure they found us by tracking signals from our ground bridge, each time we responded to their raids on the humans' power plants. At each attack, they only stuck around long enough for us to arrive, and then they bailed as soon as we showed up... Sticking around long enough to get a reading on the antineutrino particles coming from our bridge, and..." Suddenly standing up taller, Wheeljack snapped his fingers and began talking even faster, his helm fins flashing blue. " **That** will give you a direction of where the origin might be. That's what they were doing. They were calculating the direction of Sol every time our bridge opened. Once you get enough of those directions, you can triangulate the position of the ground bridge terminus! Genius!"

"Well, now we know how they found us," Red Alert said. "How does that help us now?" He looked at the Prime. "We've doubled the aerial patrols so that we'll at least have early warning, assuming they don't bridge right onto our hull. But if the Decepticons send their whole army after us again we don't stand a chance."

But Wheeljack had already continued on, oblivious to Red Alert's concern. "Prime, if Ratchet could pull sensor logs from every Autobot who was sent out to each of the Decepticon raids, we could analyze what was recorded each time the Decepticon bridge opened, and use that data to-"

"Now hang on just a microsecond," Ratchet said. "First of all, sensor logs are **private** and are to be downloaded for medical interventions **only**. It's practically like reading someone's memory files." He glanced at Barricade before continuing. "And second of all, sensor logs are only stored for a few weeks at most. The more sensors a mech is equipped with, the sooner their logs are overwritten."

That elicited a careless shrug from Wheeljack. "A couple of weeks of data should be all we need. But if we get lucky, we should be able to find out where the 'Cons are hiding their ship pretty quick."

The Prime thought for a moment before nodding. "Very well," he said, ignoring Ratchet's grumbling. "Ask for volunteers. Ensure they understand what they're agreeing to before their logs are downloaded, though. And thank you for your assistance, Barricade. We continue to benefit from the information you've been able to provide us." After giving Barricade a nod, the Prime turned to Red Alert. "I may be able to request some military support from our human allies; the government of this polity is still sympathetic to us. What would you like to see them provide in terms of security?"

Prowl gave Barricade a quick nod, dipping his wings in thanks before hurrying after the Prime and Red Alert, who were already walking away, deep in conversation, with Jazz walking just close enough to overhear. Jazz was followed by Wheeljack and Ratchet, who were arguing about which sensor logs would be the most useful to inspect. But Ironhide, instead of trailing after the Prime like he normally did, stayed behind, his arms crossed and his optics fixed on Bluestreak. "I thought you were on shift, Corporal," Ironhide said.

Bluestreak had hoped that by staying quiet he wouldn't be noticed, but that hope was apparently in vain. He sat up in his seat and gave Ironhide a quick salute. "Sir! They gave all of the laborors an hour break while they finished welding the new fittings. I'm due back in about twenty minutes so we can lift one of those big beams back into place." He hesitated and glanced at Barricade. "I decided to come by and check on Cade. I didn't expect the whole command staff to come in right after me. I would have left if anyone had asked me to, but-"

Ironhide scoffed and waved his hand. "It's fine. I don't need a big explanation. Just don't be late getting back; it's important we get that ground bridge operational again."

"Yes, sir!" Bluestreak exclaimed, tipping his wings upwards. He relaxed back into his seat when Ironhide turned and hurried after the Prime and vented softly. "I **know** how important it is. Prowl's been fretting over getting the bridge working." He looked down at the rumpled mesh over Barricade's legs. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose you've heard about your repairs?"

Barricade shrugged. "It's been, what, two days? There are others here who need more important parts." He gestured around, indicating the other patients hidden behind drawn curtains. "I'm just a... an ex-Con. I don't expect them to get around to me for a while. I'm a low priority."

"Ah, _chirr_! I don't like hearing my most interesting patient talking about himself like that." A brown and white Povian face appeared beside Barricade's berth as the coding specialist jumped up onto the chair that Prowl had just vacated. Djsuro peered up at Barricade and waved a stack of tiny data pads at him. "If you have a minue, I was wondering if I could run a quick simulation in parallel with your existing processes. I think I have a promising idea, and I wanted to test it."

Barricade huffed a laugh. "Sure, I've got lots of minutes. It's not like I'm going anywhere." He extended his arm and opened his data port for the Povian. "Haven't you gotten enough data from me yet?" he asked. "You probably could have copied my whole processor tree down with how often you've come to see me."

"Ah, funny mech. You know there's more to you than your processor tree," Djsuro said as he pulled out one of Barricade's data cables from its housing and plugged it into one of his pads. He pulled an auxillary cable from his overalls and plugged one end into another pad and handed it to Barricade. "This one goes into your medical port, please." While Barricade plugged in the other cable, the Povian specialist tapped away on yet a third pad. "I've just had a bit of a brainstorm while talking to that human. _Chirr..._ You know, the one with the yellow fur? She said a few things that made me think, and I want to test a theory."

"Do you mean Carly?" Bluestreak asked. He curled his hand around Barricade's free one, and smiled at him when Barricade returned his quick squeeze.

"Yes, that's the one. She gave me an idea." Djsuro squinted at his pad, then switched to a fourth one as he spread them out on the chair around his feet. "I'd kept running into dead ends while trying to figure out the microcode. Starscream's information led me down some bad roads, you know. The specifications he gave us were incomplete, and in a few cases they were just wrong. I think he was jumping to conclusions that might have made sense given the amount of time he could devote to thinking about it, but they were completely misleading given the data I've seen with my own eyes." Djsuro shook his head. "For example, the coding looks like it has **two** forks for control, not just one, which makes me think that Megatron isn't the only one who can issue orders. It took me a while to unravel that."

Frowning, Bluestreak asked, "Who's the second mech?" he asked, glancing at Barricade. His optics were closed, and Bluestreak took a moment to stare at his ex-bond mate, wishing he could see what was happening inside his spark. So not only was Barricade linked to Megatron, but to another Decepticon? Who could it be? Bluestreak's wings twitched. "It's not Starscream, is it?"

"Ah, doubtful," Djsuro said, tapping away at one of his pads again. "That would be a recursive loop. Hmm. At least, I'm hoping it's not Starscream." He flattened his ears against his head, then shook his head dismissively. "Best not to dwell on the unknowns. **This** is what I'm working on, so that's my focus: finding a good way to patch or remove this code from mechs who it's been installed in."

Barricade's hand tightened around Bluestreak's some more, and a furrow had formed between his still-closed optics. Bluestreak patted Barricade's hand with his free one and looked at Djsuro, flicking his wings upwards. "So do still think you can fix it?"

"Ah, I am sure that I can. It'll just take time to unravel the knots. But I realized I had to free myself of the assumptions I made based on Starscream's analysis," Djsuro said. He chittered thoughtfully to himself before continuing. "This microcode... It's not a virus, and it's not a worm. It duplicates code but also overwrites it and repurposes it. Almost like a parasite, hmm? So when I mentioned that to the human she pulled out one of her biology texts and started going through it with me. That's when I got this idea, and..." Djsuro trailed off with an uncertain trill. "Ah, Barricade?"

Barricade's engine made a strangled noise, and Bluestreak looked up him in surprise. Barricade's optics were now open, but they had changed from their normal gorgeous scarlet to a pale salmon colour. His dentae were clenched in a grimace, and a thin whine started coming from his vocalizer. His hand had tightened on Bluestreak's until he held it like a vice, and his whole frame had gone tense, his cables rippling with tension under his plating. Beside him, the spark monitor hooked into his systems began beeping alarmingly.

"Cade!" Bluestreak said, standing up from his chair. He put his free hand on the side of Barricade's helm, tilting it towards him. His optics were nearly white, their filaments blown open wide. "Cade, are you all right?"

"Ah, ears and whiskers, it's the code," Djsuro said, tapping frantically on his pad. "I was just so excited about this idea I had, and I forgot..." He chittered angrily for a moment, his attention flipping from one pad to another. "I think the simulation exacerbated the code's response. He's caught in a processor loop thinking about it. Quick, get him to think about something else. Anything!"

Bluestreak grasped onto the first topic that jumped to mind. "Cade! Cade, listen," Bluestreak said, leaning forward to place himself in front of Barricade's wide, sightless optics. "Remember that terrible pub near our flat in Iacon? You know, the one with the lukewarm engex that we were pretty sure was watered down? Remember it?" As Bluestreak spoke, Barricade's optics slowly darkened, and he nodded. Encouraged, Bluestreak continued. "But we kept going there because they made those things you liked: you know, those yellowish square things. What were they called... Cesium bites? Was that it?"

Bit by bit, Barricade's frame relaxed, and he slowly slumped back into the berth. "No. Pyrite poppers," he said almost soundlessly. "They were called pyrite poppers, but we couldn't figure out why because they didn't taste like pyrite at all."

Bluestreak smiled. "Yeah. That's right," he said, leaning over to kiss Barricade. "And you could eat whole platters of them in one sitting."

"They were good," Barricade said, his voice sounding stronger, and he gave Bluestreak a wan smile. "Weird, but good."

"What's going on over here?" Ratchet stormed into the curtained area around Barricade's berth. He jabbed a finger at the spark monitor, silencing its alarm, and frowned at the readings. "His spark's spin had started to destabilize. What in the blazes were you doing?" he growled, turning to Djsuro.

"Ah, totally my fault, totally, totally. The simulation started pairing with his coding and then with the things I was saying... _Chirrrrr_." Djsuro shrugged and flattened his tiny ears against his head. "I am very sorry. I've already made adjustments, and we will steer clear of certain conversation topics."

"Shouldn't you be working on Teletraan instead of running experiments, anyway?" Ratchet asked, adjusting a few settings on the spark monitor. "It would be helpful to have full access to our databases, and things like – oh, I don't know, **overhead light control** sometime soon." Ratchet waved a hand at the darkened ceiling above them.

Djsuro folded his hands in front of him and looked up at Ratchet. "Yes, Doctor, Teletraan **is** my priority, of course," he said. "Ground bridge control and communications have been designated top priority for repair by the Prime. Teletraan's main database is recompiling now and should be done in a few hours. Then, in theory, I should be able to boot her back up." He paused before chirring softly. " _Chirr_... She won't be at full capacity, of course. Several of her processor banks were physically damaged, and it'll take time to rebuild those. But we'll at least have some basic controls." He looked at Barricade. "But in the meantime, while the database is recompiling, I thought I could run a quick simulation on Barricade here. As soon as it's done, I'll be back at work on Teletraan."

The sound of Barricade's engine had returned to normal, and he smiled at Ratchet. "I'm already feeling better, doc," he said, rubbing his hand against his chest.

Ratchet harrumphed and glared at Djsuro again. "If this monitor goes off again while you're here, you're done, and you'll have to wait to do this until after he's discharged," he said. "I won't have you undoing the work we did to get him stabilized. Understand?"

"Ah, perfectly, Doctor," Djsuro said. He watched as Ratchet stalked away from Barricade's berth, then let out a low chuff. "I am sorry, Barricade. I didn't expect so much processor activity."

Barricade's frame had almost completely relaxed, and he sank into the cushions supporting his wings. He looked exhausted, but he laughed quietly. "Too much processor activity? In me? That's a first," he said, glancing at Bluestreak with a smile. He rubbed his thumb across Bluestreak's fingers. "Blue here will tell you I'm not much of a thinker."

Returning Barricade's smile, Bluestreak said, "That's not true. You've had your moments."

"Yup. That's me: thinking great thoughts, one moment at a time... Separated by centuries." Barricade laughed again as Bluestreak nudged him with his elbow.

" _Chirr_... The two of you are just sweet as sugar crystals, you are," Djsuro said, resuming his work on his pads. "All right, I made some adjustments to the simulation, but as a result I've had to remove the throttling. You'll probably notice a drop in your processor speed. Let me know if it's too much." He looked up at Barricade. "But just to be safe we should keep the conversation to less... troubling topics."

Barricade nodded. "Why don't you tell us how a Povian became a specialist in Cybertronian coding?" he asked, then glanced at Bluestreak. "Unless Blue already knows the story." When Bluestreak shook his helm, Barricade turned back to Djsuro and grinned. "Call it professional curiosity. It just seems a bit strange." Barricade glanced at Bluestreak again and added, "Not strange that that's what you got your specialization in! That's fine. I just mean, I know how long Povians live. It's not like there were schools open when you were a youngling."

After reviewing the display on one of his pads, Djsuro nodded in satisfaction and rocked back on his heels. "Ah, no, there weren't any schools when I was a cub. Not like I've heard about. I wish I could have been alive to see the universities my grandsire told me about. What a wonder those must have been, _chirr chirr_...." He mumbled to himself in Povian for a moment before continuing. "I was whelped in a burrow near the Sea of Rust. There wasn't much Decepticon activity there... Not much Autobot activity, either, considering the conditions. It was a good place to hide."

Barricade frowned. "But I know we – the Decepticons – did regular sweeps through there, especially once Shockwave started working on the cybermatter project," he said. "We knew that organics hid out there because it was so toxic to mechs, so when he needed more subjects that's the first place scouting parties were sent." He sat there for a moment as if processing this. Then his wings twitched downwards and his optics went wide. "Oh. No. You weren't... You weren't in one of the groups captured, were you?"

Djsuro laughed and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "Ah, no, we were not! Our burrow was in an old storage facility, deep underground, with thousands and thousands of mining drones all still in their shipping crates. I taught myself how to reprogram them, turning them into playthings for myself and my friends. As I learned more, I reprogrammed them into sentries to give us warning if anyone breached our boundaries." He stared off into space thoughtfully. "Around that time a few neutral mechs stumbled on our burrow and joined us, just looking for someplace safe. One of them was a processor tech named Cerebros. He taught me some basics of AI programming, but... Ah, I guess I had a knack for it." He chuckled. "I wrote an AI for one of my sentry drones, giving it rudimentary intelligence and creativity. I named her Cuileann, after my granddam." He paused again, then shook his head. "Cuileann is the drone who single-handedly held off the Decepticons when our burrow was finally raided, keeping them occupied long enough for us all to get away. She saved us all."

"Wow!" exclaimed Bluestreak. "So you're almost all self-taught? That's amazing!"

Djsuro waved a hand, looking self-conscious. "Just the rudimentary basis. Cerebros is the one who taught me the core of AI programming. Then, after we had to flee to Iacon, I apprenticed with a processor specialist on the base, working in Medical on soldiers brought in for repairs. Lots of bad processor injuries from combat, and lots of corrupted coding as a result of that damage," he said, shaking his head sadly. Then he shot a look at Barricade. "Lots of scrambled memories to repair, too. The amount of damage that Decepticon interrogators did to those poor mechs was incredible, even years after the fact."

Barricade blinked at Djsuro slowly as if replaying what he'd heard. Finally, he said, "I'm sure. I tried to not cause pebament... permanent damage to anyone but... I know not all of the interg... ingot... intog..." Barricade shook his helm slightly. "... **interrogators** did. And if they fought me..." Barricade's engine made a strange sound.

"Ah, I know. War's war, right?" Djsuro said, leaning over to pat Barricade on the arm. He checked two of his pads, making a slight change on one of them. "I'm guessing that things are getting a bit slow for you now, right?"

Furrowing his brow ridge in thought, Barricade stared at the Povian for almost a full minute before replying. Then he slowly said, "Yes?"

"Is he all right?" Bluestreak asked, squeezing his hand again and peering into Barricade's slackening face.

"The simulation's maxing his processor out. He's fine. It'll just take a while for things to filter through." Djsuro patted Barricade's arm again and smiled up at him. "Ah, anyway, in a way it's thanks to the Decepticon hackers that I developed my programming skills. Undoing all the processor damage for those poor mechs was challenging, but it taught me what I needed when I started working on the Teletraan project for the Prime. And... Here I am now. Helping fix a hacker with the skills I learned from fixing what hackers did." He chittered happily to himself in Povian, something that Bluestreak recognized as a snip from a Povian proverb about the cyclic nature of a life. "Fitting, _chirr_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> News! I made some progress on my draft, and I am around 90% sure that this story is going to end up at 72 chapters. Once I'm around 95% sure I'll add that final chapter count to the story here. We're into the final slide into the finale... I can't wait to share it with you! ^.^


	65. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Smokescreen leaves on a high-stakes mission, Prowl tries to keep Bluestreak's spirits up.

"What do you mean, you're going on a mission?" Bluestreak asked, not quite able to suppress the wave of anxiety Smokescreen's simple statement had created. When Smokescreen did not reply, Bluestreak tried again. "Where are you going?"

Smokescreen finally looked up from his field repair kit. "You know I can't tell you that, Blue," Smokescreen said. He snapped the kit closed and put it into his subspace. Over the bond, Smokescreen felt tightly wound but focused as he continued checking and storing his gear.

Bluestreak frowned and turned to look at his other bond mate. "Prowl?" he asked.

"All Special Operations missions are secret. You know that," Prowl replied. He was sitting on the couch, his hands in his lap, his fingers laced together. If Bluestreak wasn't in Prowl's spark he might have thought Prowl was calm and relaxed.

But the acidic tang of worry coming from Prowl told a very different story.

"Where could you possibly be going? Unless Wheeljack was able to figure out where the Decepticon ship is hiding, and you're getting sent there." Bluestreak tried to laugh, but it sounded fake, even to him.

Smokescreen did not react to Bluestreak's question at all, either in his motions, his expression, or over the bond. But Prowl's door wings dipped lower, their tips touching the surface of the couch beside him, and his worry intensified.

Bluestreak's spark felt like it had leapt into his throat as he made all of the connections he needed. "You... You're really being sent to infiltrate their ship?! How?" When Smokescreen only looked up at him, his expression calm, Bluestreak shook his helm and continued pacing. "I know. I know, it's classified, so you can't tell me. But that's where you're going, isn't it?"

Smokescreen vented softly, then smiled at Bluestreak. "I'm the one who said no more secrets. No, Prowl, it's all right," Smokescreen said, holding up a hand when Prowl made a small sound of protest. Smokescreen caught Bluestreak's arm as he paced past the desk. He looked up at Bluestreak, broadcasting understanding and composure. "Yes. I'm being sent to the Decepticon warship on a stealth mission, to disable the weapon by stealing the control module... Or to just destroy the weapon, if we can't extract the module." Smokescreen's hand tightened slightly on Bluestreak's arm. "But Blue... You **have** to promise to keep this to yourself. We both know how bad you are at keeping secrets, but it's important to keep this one, all right?"

"Of course," Bluestreak said, lifting his wings as high as they would go. "Of course! I don't want anything to happen to you." When Smokescreen nodded and let go of his arm, Bluestreak walked the few steps to the door before turning back to face his bond mates again. "But – they wouldn't send you if... Prowl, he's going to be all right... Right?" He held his hands out to his sides beseechingly.

Prowl opened his mouth to reply, but Smokescreen held up his finger, his deep blue optics fixed on Prowl. "Hey. Never tell me the odds, remember?" Smokescreen said, flicking his wings upwards with a grin.

That got a small smile out of Prowl: just a quirk of his lips, but a smile nonetheless. "Of course. I remember." He glanced at Bluestreak and added, "We did as much planning for this operation as we could but... It **is** a very dangerous mission." Prowl frowned, and Bluestreak could feel his anxiety coming through the partial block he'd erected as soon as he and Smokescreen had told Bluestreak about the very existence of the mission. "There are many variables that we cannot account for."

From the desk, Smokescreen smiled, sending another burst of reassurance to both his bond mates. "Command did put together a bit of a dream team, if I do say so myself. Jazz, Mirage, and I work really well together, and I think our teamwork is going to be an asset on this mission," he said, carefully wrapping up another piece of gear prior to stowing it in his subspace. "I don't want to know the **actual** odds, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances, assuming everything goes as planned."

"As planned..." Bluestreak's processor was still looking for some metric that would guarantee that Smokescreen would come back safe and sound. He stopped pacing by the desk and looked at Smokescreen. "Do you think that Starscream... Maybe, if anything happens, do you think he can just let you go again?" Bluestreak asked. "I mean, he did it once."

Smokescreen grimaced at that. "That is something we definitely **can't** count on," he said. "We know that the Decepticons cannot resist a direct order from Megatron. Plus, there's the possibility that Starscream is getting impatient. Maybe he's given up. Maybe he thinks we bluffed our way out of the Decepticon brig. It's been months since he let us go." Shaking his helm, Smokescreen stowed a handful of concentrated fuel packs in his subspace and looked back up at Bluestreak. "So we're doing this as quietly as possible. The goal is to not test Starscream's patience at all by not getting captured in the first place."

Prowl looked up at Bluestreak and lifted his wings off the couch, even as disquiet still swirled through their connection. "You know that there is risk inherent in **any** mission, even the so-called 'easy' ones. It's important to weigh the risks against the rewards, and decide whether the risks are worth it. In this case... They are. It is imperative that this mission succeed... No matter the cost." Prowl sent a bright flash of resolve across the bond as if to soften the impact of his words.

It didn't work.

Bluestreak stared at Smokescreen as Prowl's words hung in the air. "The cost..." Bluestreak muttered, and paced from the door to the desk and back again as he tried to battle down the terror that was threatening to overwhelm him. "It's just that... The cost..." He looked at Prowl as he grasped for words. "I mean, I know we're still at war. I **know** that. But why is it Smokey that has to go?" He stared at the floor in front of his pedes as he paced, knowing that if he looked at either of his bond mates he'd lose his voice to emotional static. "Everything... Everything was finally..."

It had finally seemed like everything was coming together. Barricade was alive, and nearby. Prowl had come to finally accept Barricade's presence at Bluestreak's side again. And Smokescreen – oh, calm, compassionate Smokescreen had been there through it all to help Bluestreak and Prowl find their way through the emotional minefield that Barricade's return had left them in.

Everything finally seemed to be working out. But now, Smokescreen was leaving to go walk right onto the Decepticon warship. Everything was being upended yet again.

Bluestreak crossed his arms to keep from wringing his hands.

"Bluestreak." Prowl patted the couch beside him, looking up at Bluestreak expectantly. When Bluestreak slowly sank down onto the couch, Prowl took his hand. "It's a vital mission. The Decepticons must be very close to having the energy they need to fire the weapon. If they're able to fire it, we're all in danger. This whole **planet** is in danger. With our ground bridge still down and our shuttles unable to fly, our options for a full-out assault on their ship are limited. A stealth mission to disable the weapon is our best option at this point, and Smokescreen is able to play a key role on the team."

Bluestreak pulled a long vent, letting the air run through his cooling systems and back out before talking, just like Smokescreen had taught him. When he spoke, he felt marginally calmer than he had even a moment before. "I understand that," Bluestreak said, trying not to sound petulant and aware that he was failing. "I know you wouldn't be sending him if it wasn't important, and if he wasn't important to the mission's success. I know that. It's just..." He looked at Prowl. "After Iacon was attacked, we didn't know whether Smokescreen had made it out, and I was afraid we'd lost him then. When the _Ark_ was attacked last week, I was afraid we'd lose you. Then, I was afraid that I'd lost Barricade in what was left of the rec room." Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen, who was still sitting at the desk as he finished checking and storing his gear. "I don't want to feel the same way about Smokey again, and..." His voice fell to a whisper. "I really don't want to think I've lost Smokey, and then find out that it's true."

Smokescreen looked at Bluestreak for a moment before rising from the desk and walking over to kneel in front of his trine mates. He took one of their hands in each of his, and looked up at them both. "I don't think you can stop from feeling that way," Smokescreen said. "And I can't promise that everything will be all right. But just know that I will do anything and everything I can to complete the mission and get back to you safely."

Bluestreak's door wings trembled on his back, but he nodded. "I know you will," he whispered.

With a smile, Smokescreen lifted Bluestreak's hand to his lips before continuing. "But I need both of you to promise **me** something," he said. He looked from Bluestreak to Prowl, and kissed Prowl's hand like he had Bluestreak's. "I need you to promise that if anything **does** happen to me, the two of you are going to talk to each other and work things out." He looked from Prowl to Bluestreak and back again, swamping the bond with trust and support. "The two of you are **strong** together. You had a strong bond long before I met you, even though you'd had some rough patches. I feel so honoured to be a part of what you have now, and I don't want **anything** to rock that foundation." His smile was radiant, and a wash of adoration cascaded through the support he was sending them. "So please, promise me that you will put words to your feelings, even if it's hard to do, so that you can work through those rough patches together."

Bluestreak felt his lower lip quiver. He clenched his jaw closed and constricted the bond to hide the fear that was rising in him. Not trusting his voice not to quaver, he simply nodded.

But then he was buoyed by a wave of confidence and faith coming from Prowl. As Bluestreak watched, Prowl smiled and lifted his other hand to cup the side of Smokescreen's helm. "I think you were right before, Smokescreen," Prowl said.

Lifting a brow ridge, Smokescreen tipped his helm into Prowl's touch with a smile. "I was? About what?"

Prowl's smile grew. "You've been the one who's managed to hold us together through all of this," Prowl said. "We were strong before, but we are even stronger for having you with us." Glancing at Bluestreak, a whisper of amusement dancing through the bond, Prowl added, "Perhaps you really **are** the body in this trine, after all."

Bluestreak burst out laughing and pulled his trine mates against him in an embrace.

***

The days passed... very, very slowly.

Bluestreak **tried** not to spend too much time monitoring Smokescreen's presence over the bond. First, wherever the mission had taken him, it was fairly distant: within two days Smokescreen's presence had faded to a mere whisper of what it normally was. It took an intense amount of focus and concentration for Bluestreak to sense any specific emotions from Smokescreen, but Bluestreak was being kept busy helping repair the ground bridge and working to reinforce parts of the _Ark's_ hull that had collapsed during the attack.

Bluestreak never thought that his reinforced frame and retuned engine would mean he would be put to work as a general laborer, but in a strange way he was happy for the small distraction it provided.

But also, Bluestreak had Prowl at his side, and Prowl had lengthy experience at being the one left behind when his bond mate was being sent into mortal peril.

On the third morning after Smokescreen left, Bluestreak was sitting on the berth, trying to work up the motivation to get up, get himself down to the mess hall for fuel, and then report for his work shift. Today he was assigned to the crew that was doing the heavy work of reconstructing key parts of the ground bridge. He understood that it was important work, but it also meant today would be a long day filled with a lot of heavy lifting. Bluestreak knew he was going to be exhausted by the end of it.

Bluestreak hadn't even realized that he'd been gently smoothing his hand up and down the side of the berth where Smokescreen usually lay until Prowl sat beside him and wrapped his arms around him. "I miss him, too," Prowl said quietly.

Leaning into Prowl's arms, Bluestreak closed his optics and felt along the bond. He could faintly feel Smokescreen, reduced to a dim presence in his spark. But Prowl's presence, bright with worry and love and responsibility, was soothing in just its proximity to Bluestreak's. "I know," Bluestreak replied. "I just wish I knew how things were going. I just want to know..." He worked his intake, not ready to voice the possibility that Smokescreen might not come back safely.

Prowl pressed his lips against Bluestreak's helm before replying. "I know how you feel," Prowl said. When Bluestreak's lips quirked upward in a knowing smile, Prowl patted his chest to forestall Bluestreak's response. "I don't just mean because I can feel you," Prowl added with a short laugh. He rested his hand on Bluestreak's chest, right over his spark. "I mean that I understand, because I've felt this same way before. Every time you were deployed I'd go through this: wondering how things were going, worrying that you were going to be safe, waiting for you to return." He rested his helm against Bluestreak's. "It was exhausting."

"I know you worried," Bluestreak said, putting his hand over Prowl's. "But you managed, somehow." He vented, trying to quell the swirls of worry inside him. "I just need to figure out how to do the same. I've been trying to do those calming exercises Smokey taught us, but-"

"My advice is to find something else to focus on," Prowl said. He kissed Bluestreak's audial again before standing up from the berth. "Smokescreen's calming tricks can only work for so long. I found that the time of your deployment went by much more quickly if I was busy with other things."

Bluestreak followed Prowl out into the living area of their quarters and smiled when he saw Prowl picking up a small stack of data pads from the desk. "Is that why you're always throwing yourself into work?" he asked. Bluestreak thought of his own day ahead, and felt his smile falter. "Because I'm not sure if that will work for me. Lifting and moving things... It still gives me a lot of time to think, you know? And I **know** dwell on things, you don't have to tell me that," Bluestreak said with a soft vent.

Prowl put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, and sent him a quick burst of affection. "Then maybe you just need to find something else to dwell on while you're working. Or some **one** ," he said. "Are you going to see Barricade again before your shift like usual?"

Flicking his wings upwards questioningly, Bluestreak nodded. "Of course," he said, tipping his helm to the side.

"Maybe there's your answer." With a smile, Prowl waved his hand. "Just a suggestion," he said. "Tell him I said hello?" And then Prowl swept out of their quarters.

Bluestreak wasn't quite sure that thinking about Barricade would make the time go faster. It had been over a week since the _Ark_ had been attacked by the Decepticons, but there had still been no movement towards Barricade's legs being repaired. When Bluestreak had grumpily brought it up with Prowl, his bond mate had told him that Barricade's damage **was** on Ratchet's priority list for repairs. However, Medical only had two manufacturing stations, and they were both working around the clock creating the parts needed for everyone. The damage to Barricade's legs was extensive, and it would take quite some time for all of the parts to be manufactured.

Plus, Prowl had explained in a truly regretful tone, the Autobots needed their own crew members repaired first. While Prowl was finally convinced that Barricade probably wouldn't turn on the Autobots, Red Alert was not quite so sure. In the meantime, they needed as many Autobots combat-ready as possible, just in case the Decepticons decided to attack.

Barricade would just have to wait.

Like usual when Bluestreak visited Barricade first thing in the morning, Barricade was awake and occupying himself by reading a novel that Bluestreak happened to have saved on a pad. Until Teletraan was full restored, there was no way to download new movies or books from the _Ark's_ entertainment network. Barricade set the data pad down as soon as he noticed Bluestreak, greeting him with a smile. "Morning, Blue," Barricade said. He glanced at the cube of fuel in Bluestreak's hand. "Another day of heavy lifting for you?"

Bluestreak nodded as he sat down beside Barricade's berth. "We have four more transducer rings to lift into place," Bluestreak said. "They're heavy as Pit, and really fragile. I asked why they didn't just have us lift them into place and **then** repair them, but that was apparently a stupid question." Bluestreak rolled his optics, remembering the long, overly-detailed explanation his question had set off with Perceptor. Then he shrugged. "Anyway, once those are in place, we just need to finish installing the floor panels and then wire it up, and then the ground bridge will be ready for testing. Hopefully that'll be soon." He took a drink from his fuel and frowned. "Prowl said there have been a bunch more attacks over the last few days. The 'Cons must be getting close to having enough energy to use that weapon."

Barricade fell silent and plucked at the cover of the berth for a moment before replying. "I wish there was something more I could do," he said. "I tried to give the Autobots everything I knew, everything I could think of, but... It still wasn't enough."

Putting his hand on Barricade's, Bluestreak smiled at him. "You did what you could, right?"

Barricade's optics shied away from Bluestreak's. "I just... If Megatron sets off the cybermatter weapon, I don't want you or Prowl to get hurt. Or Smokescreen, since that would hurt you, too." He vented quietly, then looked up at Bluestreak with a frown. "Speaking of Smokescreen, I haven't seen him in a few days. Is he all right?"

"Oh, he's... Uh..." Bluestreak bit his lower lip, suddenly remembering that Smokescreen was on a secret mission, and that he was not to tell anyone about it. Not even Barricade. ( **Especially** not Barricade.) "He's busy!" Bluestreak said, tipping his door wings upwards. "Yeah. He's busy with... uh... Autobot stuff."

A wide smile broke across Barricade's face. "You're a terrible liar, Blue," Barricade said with a laugh, pulling Bluestreak's hand up to his lips. "Always have been. But I don't need to know where he is. He is fine, though, right?"

Bluestreak nodded, unconsciously brushing the space in his spark where Smokescreen existed. He felt the distant echo of his bond mate, bright and alive, before withdrawing, not wanting to distract Smokescreen too much. "Yeah. He's fine."

"Good. That's all that matters right now." Barricade glanced away from Bluestreak and lifted his wings. "You're here early, Djsuro," Barricade said.

The Povian coding specialist hopped into the chair on the other side of the berth. "Ah, good morning, Barricade," he chirped. He brandished a device in one hand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to run another simulation this morning. I had another conversation with Carly last night and I couldn't get to sleep! Some of the ideas she had, _chirr chirrup chirr_! It's farfetched, enough so that I don't think it would be feasible in the first place, but the way she explained it..." He lapsed into Povian as he distractedly checked something on the data pad he held in his other hand. "Ah, so are you free now?"

"Like I said, it's not as though I'm going anywhere." Barricade gave Bluestreak's hand one more kiss. "And you're probably off for your shift, right?"

"Yeah." Bluestreak hesitated, much preferring to stay with Barricade instead of lifting dangerously heavy pieces of metal into place. But the sense of duty and loyalty that Prowl's presence in his spark had endowed on him forced him to his pedes. He leaned over and gave Barricade a quick hug. "I'll see you later, Cade."

"I'll be here!" Barricade said with a tired grin that looked a bit thin. "Like always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points up at the chapter count* We're officially getting into endgame here, folks! ^.^


	66. The Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Djsuro has a breakthrough in fixing the loyalty coding, and Smokescreen's secret mission prompts a violent reaction from Megatron.

The next morning, a few hours before his internal alarm was scheduled to wake him, a distant flare of emotion from Smokescreen startled Bluestreak out of recharge.

Bluestreak's optics flew open and he reached across the distance between him and Smokescreen, trying to get a handle on what he'd felt from his bond mate. It was a burst of concern, of focus, a sensation of a tightly-wound spring being twisted even tighter, the feeling of uneasy anticipation. Bluestreak recalled sensing something like this when he and Smokescreen had been caught in the firefight with the 'Cons at the warehouse, just before they'd been captured.

Bluestreak desperately that hoped this time, Smokescreen would have better luck.

"It's all right." Prowl was awake, too, and his arms wrapped around Bluestreak tightly. "They must have reached their target, or even started the operation. I was expecting this, based on the timelines the team discussed." Prowl's words were soft, but spoken right into Bluestreak's audial. "I used to feel almost the same thing from you, back when you were deployed. Any time you got into a firefight or some other tight spot, I would feel something like this."

Reaching out towards Smokescreen again, Bluestreak sent him love and support, affection and confidence, anything he could gather in a desperate attempt to let Smokescreen know how he felt about him. But just as suddenly as Smokescreen's presence had sparkled brightly in Bluestreak's spark, it faded into the dim, vague presence it had been for the last few days. Bluestreak sagged into Prowl's arms, opening his optics to see Prowl's icy blue gaze fixed on him. "He'll be all right, won't he?" Bluestreak whispered, anxiety coursing through him as his thoughts ran wild with what could have caused those emotions in his bond mate.

"I know you're afraid of losing another bond mate," Prowl murmured. He smoothed his hand down Bluestreak's arm. "I was, too, when you got sent away. But you can't dwell on it, love, and you can't focus on the worst-case scenarios. That will only make what you're feeling worse." He kissed Bluestreak gently and added, "Trust me, I know that all too well."

Bluestreak leaned forward, pressing his lips to Prowl's again, and asked, "Then, can you help me forget?"

Prowl responded to Bluestreak's invitation enthusiastically, distracting Bluestreak quite thoroughly with his fingers, and then his spike, both in their berth and again in the wash racks.

By the time Bluestreak's internal alarm finally went off, several hours later, Bluestreak was well-sated, fully awake, and clean. "I might end up missing that recharge time later today," Bluestreak said, throwing Prowl a damp towel, "but I think it was worth it." He gave Prowl a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Prowl said, flicking his wings in a self-satisfied manner. He hung his towel and Bluestreak's on the hook and then paused. Finally, he looked at Bluestreak with an odd expression. "Are you going to see Barricade this morning?"

"Like always," Bluestreak said, tipping his helm to the side. "Why?"

Prowl hesitated again, and something like nervousness floated across the bond between them. "Do you mind if I come with you?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Bluestreak exclaimed, letting his excitement flow into their connection. He knew Prowl's attitude towards Barricade had started defrosting ever since the attack on the _Ark_ , and Bluestreak wanted to do anything he could to encourage that progress. "Of **course** you can come with me!"

Holding up his hands as if to ward off Bluestreak's eagerness, Prowl said, "I'm not... I haven't changed how I feel about him." He vented softly and lowered his hands. "I only wanted to say hello." He met Bluestreak's gaze. "If he's going to be a part of your life again, I... I need to learn how to talk with him."

"Sure. Of course!" Bluestreak replied, his wings flicking up and down. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. He's always complaining about how boring it is down there."

But when they got to Medical, Bluestreak was surprised to see that Barricade was not alone as usual. Barricade's optics were cast towards the ceiling as if trying to ignore the activity happening around him. Djsuro stood on the chair beside his berth, and another chair had been pulled up for Carly. Meanwhile, Ratchet was checking the readouts of Barricade's spark monitor, frowning. "And you said it's got a failsafe built in?" Ratchet asked.

Djsuro nodded enthusiastically, making the little squeaking noises he made when he was especially excited about something. "Ah, yes. The program monitors the spark spin and energy output, and if it varies from a specific set of readings, the whole program will abort and perform a backout. Of course, once it's gotten to a certain point there might be more danger in backing out than proceeding, so after the third program launches, there's no backout contingencies. But I'm confident that won't be a problem."

Ratchet's frown deepened, but he nodded. "All right. So tell me what those specific readings are. I want to make sure they're acceptable to **me**."

As Djsuro and Ratchet discussed what constituted satisfactory readings for a spark, Bluestreak walked up to Barricade's berth. "What's going on, Cade?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as worried as he felt. "Is everything all right?"

Barricade's hand was pressed firmly to his chest, and he smiled wanly at Bluestreak. "Djsuro said he thinks he has a fix for me," Barricade said.

"That's fantastic!" Bluestreak exclaimed, some of his anxiety vaporizing. He leaned over to give Barricade a hug, careful of the wires that were hooked into his medical ports. "I told you that if anyone could do it, Djsuro could."

Barricade nodded. He turned his helm slightly, and his expression became a strange mix of guarded and hopeful. "Hi, Prowl," he said quietly.

Prowl moved to stand next to Bluestreak. He lifted his wings slightly, and gave Barricade a nod. "Good morning, Barricade," he said. He glanced at Bluestreak before continuing. "Blue has told me a lot about all the work Djsuro has been doing. Hopefully this fix works."

"Ah, I am **very** confident that this patch will work!" Djsuro said, fiddling with the device in his hand. Then he reached out an arm and patted Carly on the shoulder. "And I have Carly to thank for the inspiration!"

Carly smiled, and her face turned an odd shade of pink. "All I did was point out how the map you'd drawn in your lab looked like a slime mold."

Ratchet head snapped up from where he was double checking a monitor. "It looked like a what now?"

Djsuro pulled a tiny data pad out of a pocket in his belt. "A slime mold. Carly showed me; it's a type of fungus that lives here on Earth." He tapped the pad's surface to show a diagram of something branched, superimposed over another image of something organic. "Originally, I'd been approaching the microcode like Starscream had been doing: viewing it as a virus, or a worm. After all, that's how we see any sort of unwanted code introduced into a processor. But when I sketched out what the microcode had done – you know, to help me visualize its effects - Carly saw my drawing and commented on how similar it looked to a slime mold."

"I'm taking a seminar this semester on amoebozoans," Carly said. Her face seemed to have recovered, returning to its normal colour. "I told Djsuro about slime molds, and then we started talking about other types of fungi. I think Cordyceps are really cool, so I told him about that type of fungus, and-"

Ratchet's scowl deepened. "You're saying Barricade has a... a code **fungus** and not a virus?"

"Ah, _chirrup_ , sort of, in a manner of speaking!" Djsuro said. "Carly told me about how there are types of fungi that infiltrate all of an organism's major systems, using chemicals to force them to act a certain way, or to force them to do certain things. So I started looking through my notes and how the microcode seemed to be affecting **all** of Barricade's systems, and _chirrup chirr_... After I ran a few tests on Barricade, I found I was on the right track. Suddenly I could see how best to tackle this problem!"

Ratchet still looked deeply skeptical, but he said nothing as Djsuro started comparing readings on his data pad with the strange device in his hand. But the chief medical officer straightened as another mech approached Barricade's berth. "You didn't need to come down here personally, Prime," Ratchet said. "I just wanted you to be aware that Djsuro was ready to deploy the patch for the microcode."

"I can leave if you'd prefer me not to be here, Barricade... Or if you think I'll get in the way, Doctor," the Prime said, his deep voice resonating in Bluestreak's chest. The Prime's optics brightened, as if in eagerness. "But based on what you've said, Barricade, having a fix for the loyalty microcode is the key we need to stop this war completely."

Barricade nodded. "That's right, sir," he said. "The Air Commander has no desire to subvert another planet when the means to save Cybertron are in our grasp. He's..." Barricade hesitated. "He's incredibly stubborn, but I think – no, I'm **sure** – that if he was presented with a way to end the war, he'd accept it."

"Under his terms, of course," Prowl said, his tone dark. Distrust wove into the bond with Bluestreak. Prowl glanced at the Prime, and added, "All of the intelligence we have on him, including everything that Barricade has provided for us, tells us that Starscream will want to put his stamp on any agreement."

"Agreed," the Prime said. "But we can worry about that later. First, we need to make sure we have something to offer him in exchange for that agreement."

Prowl vented softly. "Of course," he said. Then he tipped his wings upwards. "And sir, I have reason to believe that Dark Team One has reached the objective of their mission." He touched his chest lightly. "We should have word of their success soon."

 _Success_ , Prowl had said. Bluestreak clung to that optimistic word. Success of Smokescreen's mission, which mean he'd be coming home safe.

Above his battle mask, the Prime's optics brightened further. "That **is** excellent news," he said.

"All right, Barricade, I need you to understand what's going to happen here." Ratchet leaned over Barricade, making sure that the dark mech was looking right at him. "I've looked at the source code of the programs Djsuro is going to run. The programs have to overwrite part of your core programming so it'll stop sustaining the microcode that's been installed in you. There's a risk any time you muck around with a mech's core programming. I don't think I need to tell you it's the very source of everything that makes you **you**." Ratchet's expression was stern, holding Barricade's attention. "This patch might have no side effects. Or it might overwrite part of your personality... Or worse. You should consider very carefully before deciding-"

"Do it." Barricade looked up at Ratchet unflinchingly. "I accept. Go ahead. Proceed. Whatever you need me to say so that you'll fix this, I'll say it." He vented and grabbed for Bluestreak's hand, looking up at him for a moment before gasping, "Just get this thing out of me." His optics squeezed shut, and he pressed his other hand to his chest.

Ratchet straightened up and nodded. "All right, then." He gestured to Djsuro. "It's all you, kid."

"Ah, _chirr_ , good Doctor. If you consider lifespans, I'm slightly older than you," Djsuro said, then trilled a tiny laugh. He shuffled forward on his chair and made an adjustment on his device's screen before holding it up for Barricade to see. "This is a code insertion device. After you lower your firewalls, you'll sense it pushing code to your internal systems, and then launching it. There are three programs that I'll have to push, but you'll be put into a medical reboot between the second and third programs. By the time the reboot is finished and you're back online, the microcode should be gone." Djsuro's whiskers quivered in excitement. "Ready?"

"Ready." Barricade looked up at Bluestreak and squeezed his hand again.

"Lower your firewalls, then, please," Djsuro said. A moment later, he nodded. "I'm pushing the first program now."

Barricade's optics flickered as the code was loaded into his systems. "Blue," Barricade said softly. "Just in case this doesn't work, or it goes bad... I love you. I always have."

Feeling as though his spark was in his mouth, Bluestreak nodded. When he'd been woken up that morning by the burst of emotion from Smokescreen, Bluestreak had no idea that within a few hours he'd be having this conversation with Barricade. He bit his lower lip, trying to forget the warning that Ratchet had just given Barricade. "I know," he whispered. "I love you, too." He reset his vocalizer and managed a smile. "But Djsuro's a genius with code. I'm **sure** you'll be fine."

Bluestreak hoped he was right.

Beside the berth, Djsuro hunched his shoulders and purred quietly as watched the readouts on the monitor.

Then Barricade looked past Bluestreak, to the white and black mech standing behind him. "And Prowl," Barricade said, the flickering of his optics growing faster. "I understand how you feel about me. And... I wish I'd listened to you when I had the chance. I am sorry. For everything."

Bluestreak felt something twist deep inside of Prowl, warping almost to the point of breaking... But not quite. Placing his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, Prowl leaned heavily into the bond, pulling strength from Bluestreak before replying. "Thank you, Barricade," Prowl said, his resolve becoming firm. "I'm sorry, too."

Barricade nodded, then looked up at the ceiling as he vented quietly. "Maybe, once they've got my legs repaired, once everything... Once it's all settled..." He glanced at the Prime, then at Ratchet. "Maybe I could get my vocalizer repaired, too."

Ratchet huffed softly. "Vocalizers are tricky to repair, and the parts are difficult to manufacture," he said. "And unless you can't talk at all, that has to be a low-priority operation."

"That's fine," Barricade replied. "I just want to be able to sing again."

Standing behind him, Prowl's hand tightened on Bluestreak's shoulder. "I'd like to hear you sing again, too, Barricade," Prowl said, almost too quietly for either of them to hear.

Almost.

Barricade looked at Prowl, his optics widening. Before he could say anything, though, his optics flashed, and he emitted a strangled squelch of feedback. His frame stiffened, his door wings trembling beneath him, before he went limp and his optics went dark.

Bluestreak tensed, his wings flaring outwards. He gripped Barricade's hand tightly even as it wilted in his grasp. Prowl leaned down to murmur into Bluestreak's audial. "It's the medical reboot." He underscored his words with a soothing stream of conviction.

Right. Bluestreak nodded, unable to move his gaze from Barricade's slack face. The reboot. This was planned. It was all going as planned.

They just had to wait.

Djsuro hummed as he watched the screen on his device. "The third program is uploading now," he said. "So far, everything is sliding into the burrow, _chirr chirrup_." He looked at Carly and wriggled his whiskers at her. "Have you considered a specialization in processor coding?" he asked.

Carly smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly. "That's not a thing here, really," she said. "But I'd love to learn more about it."

With a satisfied chirp, Djsuro looked up at the Prime. "Sir, did you see my status update on the code that I sent yesterday?" he asked. "I was not able to make any progress in identifying who the second control fork would be, as I was unable to isolate a spark signature. Also..." He gestured at Barricade. "Once this fix is in place, we'll have no more data to work from. But I know you wanted me to prioritize a fix, not reverse-engineer the code."

Ratchet shrugged. "Even if we had a spark signature, I'm not sure what we could do with that information. It's not like we have a directory of spark signatures for the Decepticons."

Still standing beside Bluestreak, his arms around him, Prowl said, "Based on the profile we've built of Megatron, he likely has another mech who he's groomed as his immediate successor. Our analysis has an 84% chance of that mech being Shockwave." Prowl's wings twitched. "That would also make sense in terms of how their forces are divided. If Shockwave remained back on Cybertron, if he **is** the second controller, he would be in full command of the Decepticon troops there, just as Megatron is here."

The Prime nodded. "I believe you are correct," he said.

As the others spoke, Bluestreak held Barricade's hand in his. He tried not to think about the what-ifs and the might-bes, but they swirled around in his helm anyway, so enticing. What if this didn't work the way they expected? What if Barricade was free of Megatron's control, but ended up still under control of this other mech? Or... What if they could actually end the war? What if they could rebuild Cybertron? What if they could rebond? What if they could fix everything?

But also... What if this failed? What if it corrupted Barricade's core programming? What if it changed his personality? What if it killed him? What if Bluestreak lost Barricade for a third time? What if he lost Barricade **and** Smokescreen?

What if everything fell apart, all over again?

No. That was too horrid to even think about. Bluestreak shoved that processor thread and all of the tangents it had spawned from his processor, pulled a full vent cycle, and counted to ten. He looked at Barricade, focusing on how untroubled he looked in that moment, with his scarred face slack and his optics dark. All that mattered in this moment was the here and now. All that mattered was here in the room with him, and in his spark.

An eternity passed.

Finally, Bluestreak's wing sensors picked up a change in Barricade's systems, a change that was echoed in the beeping of the monitors that were hooked into his ports. There was a slight twitch of Barricade's lips, and a flicker of light in his half-shuttered optics. The twitch became a firmness of his jaw, and the flicker of light became a glow, and Barricade's engine quietly hummed back into an idle. His optical shutters fluttered slightly, and then he opened them completely, allowing his gaze to focus first on Bluestreak.

A familiar grin spread across his lips. "Hey, Blue," Barricade said.

Bluestreak let out the vent of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Welcome back, Cade," Bluestreak said. "How do you feel?"

Barricade's brow ridge furrowed slightly. "Strange. Fine, but strange. Something is different," he said.

"Everything is looking good from here," Djsuro said, then he peered up at Barricade. "But please... Tell me about the code."

Barricade stiffened slightly, then he frowned. "The code," he said. "The code is...." He touched his chest. "The code..." Then his optics widened, and he looked at Djsuro. "I'm not feeling those twinges. The ache is gone. The pain I'd get when I-" He pulled a vent. "When I even **thought** about the code, it would hurt, and..." Then he laughed, a joyous, delighted noise that made Bluestreak's spark twirl in sympathetic happiness. "It doesn't hurt anymore! I can talk about the code, and it doesn't hurt! It's gone. It's **gone**!" He laughed again, and wrapped his arms around Bluestreak, his wings fluttering behind him.

"I'm so glad!" Bluestreak exclaimed. When Barricade let him go, Bluestreak smiled at him. "It's really gone? You're sure!"

"Yes! I'm sure of it." Barricade looked around at everyone standing around his berth. "Before, that coding... That Pit-spawned, slagging coding..." He pulled another vent, gathering himself, his expression a strange mix of excited and relieved. "Before, if I even **thought** about somehow getting myself free of that code, I'd end up doubled over in pain. If I thought about... about **killing** Megatron, the pain would be so intense I'd practically end up in a reboot, it was so bad." He looked at the Prime with wide optics. "Primus. I can actually think about killing Megatron."

The Prime's optics narrowed slightly. "I would hope that will not be necessary, but... That is a good sign."

"Fine, if not kill him, I can think about making him **pay** for what he's done," Barricade said, then shook his helm. "I think that's one of the reasons why Starscream was working so hard to get himself free of the coding. He saw where Megatron was taking the Decepticons, and he had other ideas on how we – they should proceed. And he **hated** the way Megatron treated him. But back at the beginning of the war, Megatron demanded loyalty... And then he **forced** it on us." Barricade paused, seeming to become aware of the torrent of words that had been spilling from his mangled vocalizer. "But now... I'm **free**."

With that, Barricade slumped forward slightly and put his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Bluestreak wrapped his arms around his ex-bond mate again, giving him the only comfort he could.

"His spark readings all seem fine, even through that whole speech and how many times he mentioned the code," Ratchet said. He checked one monitor, then another. "We'll have to remove the shielding from his spark to make absolutely sure that the process worked. But before we do that, I think we should probably do a few more scans to make sure all of the remnants of that code are out of his system. We wouldn't want to pass any nasty surprises on to the Decepticons." He cast a glance at the Prime. "Right?"

"Of course we don't, Doctor," the Prime said, and ignored the tiny huff from Ratchet. He turned to Prowl. "Considering the success here, I think we should-"

The Prime was interrupted by a resonant thudding sound, and the _Ark_ shuddered violently. Over the newly-repaired comm system, Red Alert's voice echoed through Medical. "Force protection alert five. Repeat, force protection alert five. We are under attack. Decepticons detected nearby. All hands, report to battle stations immediately. This is not a drill. Force protection alert five. We are under attack."

Both the Prime and Prowl lifted their hands to their audials at the same time, connecting to the Command Centre and Red Alert. "Lieutenant, what is the status of our shields?" Prowl asked. To the Prime, he added, "We **just** got the shields back online two days ago and haven't had a chance to run a full suite of diagnostics to test their strength. If the Decepticons are close enough to be launching attacks-"

The Prime nodded. "I understand, Lieutenant," he replied. He glanced at Ratchet, who was already helping Djsuro disconnect wires from Barricade. "Doctor, I'll let you prepare Medical for what's to come." He vented softly. "Red Alert's initial reports indicate Megatron brought almost his entire troop complement, likely in response to the success of Jazz's team. If that's true, this may be a very short, very painful battle."

There was another explosion, and the _Ark_ shook again. Ratchet's engine snarled, although whether it was in response to the Prime's words or the noise outside was not clear. "Understood," he said, and rushed off towards his office, calling for Hoist and his other assistants.

Bluestreak's optics had opened wide at the mention of Jazz's team, suddenly understanding why Megatron might be standing right outside the _Ark_. He quickly reached through the bond, his awareness flowing around the space where Smokescreen existed in order to send a single question consisting of pure emotion: _Are you safe?_

He received an immediate response: still faint, but clear in its meaning. _Yes, I am safe._ For the moment at least, Smokescreen was all right, and uninjured. Bluestreak closed his optics and quietly vented in relief. One less thing to worry about.

As the Prime started to turn away, Barricade leaned forward. "Wait! Sir!" he called. When the Prime looked at him, Barricade spread his wings. "Please... I need that Decepticon locator beacon I brought with me. The patch worked. I'm free of the code! If I can get the patch to Starscream, and show him it works... If we can get **him** free from the code, he'll be able to disobey whatever Megatron is ordering him to do."

Prowl's door wings flared out, and Bluestreak felt a stab of anxiety from his bond mate. "Prime, if we just give him the patch without an agreement already in place, we'll have no leverage over him," Prowl said.

Barricade balled his fists, and a familiar-sounding growl came from his engine. "Prowl, just **listen** to me!" he snapped. When Prowl stared at him with wide optics, Barricade hesitated before continuing. "I... I know I've been wrong about... I've been wrong about so many things. But I'm **right** about this." Barricade met Prowl's gaze unflinchingly. "I **know** Starscream. I've worked alongside him since the beginning of the war. He's not some power-crazed maniac. He's not Megatron! He joined Cybertron First for the same sort of reasons I did, and then..." Barricade touched his chest. "And then Megatron took advantage of the trust we gave him." He looked from Prowl to the Prime. "Starscream will hold up his end of the deal. I **know** he will."

"That's the problem," Prowl said, his voice sharp. "We don't **have** a deal with him. There is no set agreement with Starscream, aside from what you've claimed."

There was a third explosion, louder this time, and the ship shook hard enough for dust to filter out of the ceiling of Medical. Barricade flicked his wings in frustration. "Do you really think you've got enough troops to hold off all the Decepticons? With this many of your crew damaged already?" Barricade gestured around Medical, indicating how many other berths were still occupied. "Think, Prowl. I know you're good at that, so just **think**! Your only shot at beating them is if you get Starscream on your side, by giving him the ability to disobey Megatron." Barricade dipped his wings. "I **swear** I'm telling the truth. **Please** believe me."

Prowl frowned, and Bluestreak could feel him considering Barricade's words. Bluestreak bit his lip as he sensed Prowl's knotted anxieties and resolve tighten into an even more intractable knot... And then loosen again as Prowl came to a decision.

Prowl nodded at Barricade once, and then looked up at the Prime. "Barricade is correct, sir. If Megatron brought the bulk of his forces here, we're going to need as much help as we can get. And if there's a chance that Starscream can provide that help, then..." Prowl trailed off, then flicked his wings. "If there's a chance Starscream can help us, we should try to take advantage of it."

The Prime nodded. "Agreed. Jazz advised me before they left that the Decepticon locator beacon was in the safe in his office, and that Red Alert had the code to access the safe. I'll activate the beacon outside, and-"

"Starscream keyed the beacon to my personal spark signature," Barricade said, almost apologetically. "I'm the only one who can set it off, and... I have to have the shielding removed from my spark before I can do it."

"Ah, and sir, I'd really feel more comfortable if I can deploy the code for Starscream myself," Djsuro said, lifting his code insertion device. "The timing on initiating the three programs leaves whisker-thin room for error."

Another explosion rocked the _Ark_ , this one more forceful than the previous ones. "Prime, we have to go, **now** ," Ironhide said, then looked at Bluestreak. "And Corporal, you need to be arming up. We're gonna need your firepower."

Bluestreak bolted upright, his wings quivering behind him. "Yes, sir!" he replied, and turned to run out of Medical.

"Wait." The Prime held up his hand, stopping Bluestreak in his tracks. He looked behind him, where Ratchet was calling out orders to Hoist, and the other Medical staff was preparing triage kits. "Ratchet will not be able to leave Medical to transport Barricade outside, and he obviously cannot move himself," the Prime said, gesturing at Barricade's still-ruined legs. He looked at Prowl. "Lieutenant Prowl, I'll have Red Alert send you the code to retrieve the beacon from Jazz's office. Get it, then return it to Barricade. Corporal Bluestreak, will you be able to get Barricade and Djsuro outside the ship so that Barricade can use the beacon to summon Starscream?"

Bluestreak remembered that night on the roof the Ark, when he easily lifted Barricade. "Yes, sir," he replied with a salute. "I can do that."

Turning slightly, the Prime called out, "Ratchet! Can you remove the shielding from Barricade's spark quickly?"

Ratchet looked up from the crates of supplies he and Hoist were pulling out of storage, and waved his hand. "Yes, yes. It'll take about five minutes."

The Prime nodded again. "Then do it. Now." As Ratchet grabbed a wrench, the Prime turned back to face Barricade and the others clustered around his berth. "It's settled. Ratchet will remove the shielding. Prowl, I'll leave the rest in your capable hands. Once Bluestreak and Barricade have the beacon, report to the Command Centre." He gave them all a salute, even as yet another explosion shook the decking beneath their pedes. "Good luck, Autobots and friends. And work fast. All of our lives may depend on your quick actions." Then, gesturing to Ironhide, the Prime transformed in a whirl of plating and protoform, and roared out of Medical, followed by Ironhide.

Prowl vented for a moment, and Bluestreak could sense him queuing up analyses, forming plans, and prioritizing actions, all in a blink of an optic. Then he turned to Bluestreak. "Report to the Armory and get geared up. I will meet you back here with the beacon." Without another word, he transformed and drove out of Medical.

Ratchet had returned to Barricade's berth, and was making an adjustment to the tool in his hand. "Open your chest plate." He frowned and added, "I don't have time to apply a pain patch, so this will hurt a bit. I'll be fast, though."

Barricade nodded as his chest plates parted. "It's all right," he said.

Bluestreak patted Barricade's hand. "I'll be right back," Bluestreak said to Barricade, then looked at Djsuro. "Make sure you've got everything you need so we can leave as soon as we can." Then, before anyone could shout any more orders at him, Bluestreak transformed and raced after Prowl.

The hallways of the Ark were ordered chaos, with crew members running every which way towards their battlestations. Support teams prepared to back up the combat mechs, while Akkiel scurried in tight knots towards the ship's gunning stations. Bluestreak queued up the combat channels as he drove, only to see that the battle was already raging outside the ship... And just minutes after the Decepticons arrived, the Autobots were already at a disadvantage. Megatron was leading the charge, bellowing in rage, with what seemed like the whole force of the Decepticon army on Earth behind him. Whatever Smokescreen and his team had done, it had driven Megatron into a murderous frenzy.

The ship's deck shook under Bluestreak again as he drove, and a sudden wave of fear threatened to rise up and overwhelm him. Fear for himself, for Prowl, for Smokescreen, for Barricade... Fear for all of the Autobots and their allies.

Desperately, Bluestreak called up his old combat protocols that would highlight important communications and updates on his HUD, and shunt the rest into a secondary communication queue. He ran a quick diagnostic to check that his targeting programs and firing systems were all ready to go, and everything came back green. He focused on that status: he was combat ready, and he could still serve the purpose that the Autobots had given him. He was **good** at what he did, and the Autobots could depend on him.

It didn't feel like much, to be honest. But it was enough to steady Bluestreak's spark and get him focused again.

It was just a matter of minutes for Bluestreak to reach the Armory, pick up his gear, and race back to Medical. He saw Prowl arriving just before him, his bondmate's sleek alt mode skidding around the corner into the bay in a barely-controlled slide. Bluestreak transformed just behind Prowl, and they both ran up to the berth where Barricade had pulled himself to a sitting position, dangling his ruined legs off the edge.

Barricade was rubbing his chest distractedly, but smiled when the other two Praxians entered Medical. "I'm ready to go," he said.

"Here's the beacon," Prowl said, handing Barricade a cylindrical launcher. "And..." He hesitated, glancing up at the camera on the far end of the bay before pulling a blaster from his subspace. "Take this, too."

Barricade looked at the blaster with wide optics before accepting it. "I didn't think I was allowed weapons," he said.

"You aren't," Prowl said, his door wings twitching behind him. He frowned, putting his hand to his audial before cancelling the connection of an incoming comm. "But I consider this extraordinary circumstances, and Red Alert will simply have to accept my decision." Prowl put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, and Bluestreak could sense the tension in Prowl through the bond and in the way he gripped his shoulder plating. "Once he's gotten you far enough away from the ship to call Starscream, Bluestreak must return to fight. As you put it, we need all the help we can get." Prowl smiled at Bluestreak before refocusing on Barricade. "I can't in good conscience send you to face the Decepticons without some way to protect yourself and Djsuro. Not after... Not after all of the help you've given us." He dipped his wings slightly.

Barricade nodded, slipping the blaster into his subspace. "Thanks, Prowl. For the vote of confidence."

Then Bluestreak felt a surge of agitation from Prowl as his bond mate's wings snapped out wide once more. Prowl pointed at Barricade, his icy blue optics boring directly into Barricade's bright scarlet ones. "But I swear to you, Barricade... If **anything** happens to Bluestreak because you've misrepresented what Starscream is willing to do for us, I **swear** I will make you regret the day you were forged."

Barricade's wings flared out to match Prowl's. But instead of the sassy retort that Bluestreak was expecting or an angry denial, Barricade's words were spoken with a deep sincerity. "If anything happens to Bluestreak, I'll gladly turn myself in for you to do whatever you want to me," he said. He looked up at Bluestreak, and Bluestreak felt his own spark quiver at the intense look on Barricade's face. "Trust me, I can't go through that again... And I don't want you to, either."

The burst of surprise from Prowl was matched by the trembling of his wings before he nodded, taking in Bluestreak and the organics in his glance. "Good luck, all of you," he said, before transforming and racing away again.

Bluestreak slung his rifle over his shoulder and looked at Barricade, Djsuro, and Carly, who was still standing beside the Povian. "All right," he said. "How do we want to do this?"


	67. The Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Decepticons continue their assault on the Ark, Bluestreak and Barricade offer the coding patch to Starscream.

Bluestreak's engine was running hard by the time he reached the slot canyon about a klik away from the _Ark_. But even with Barricade hanging onto his back and the organics balanced on his shoulders, Bluestreak was nowhere near red-lining. He silently thanked the engineers who had retuned his engine at the beginning of the war so that he could carry heavy armor and weaponry, although he supposed that having a tow-capable vehicle mode might have been more advantageous in this situation.

Before Bluestreak carried Barricade and the organics out of the ship, they had debated where to go to call Starscream. Barricade said that it had to be far enough from the main battle so that Megatron couldn't see where Starscream had gotten to; otherwise, the Air Commander might not risk making the landing. Bluestreak said that it had to be close enough that they could get there quickly by running, since he had no other way to carry Barricade, and so that he could get back to the fight as soon as possible. Djsuro didn't want to be too far from the ship, just in case he needed additional equipment to connect his code insertion device to the Seeker. (Bluestreak and Barricade assured Djsuro that medical ports were standard for a reason, but Djsuro still seemed uncertain.) Meanwhile, Carly was agreeable to anything.

"Where's Sam?" Bluestreak asked Carly as he jogged away from the ship, trying to move as fast as possible without slipping on the loose rock scattered on the ground, crusted over with ice and snow. "Won't he be worried that you left without him?"

"I texted him already," she said, patting her pocket where her own communication device was stored. "He knows where I'm going. Sort of. I skimped a bit on the details. But he's on the bridge with Blaster and Prowl and Red Alert, so he doesn't have much room to talk." She held Djsuro's comm pad tightly in one of her hands as she held on to Bluestreak's shoulder tire with her other. As Bluestreak was figuring out how to carry Barricade, Carly had insisted that she come along, offering to handle the Povian's comm pad while he was busy deploying the code to Starscream. It made sense, especially since Barricade's comms were still disabled; once Bluestreak dropped them off, Djsuro's comm pad was the most efficient way for them to contact the Autobots. "But speaking of Blaster, I also messaged him so he knows where we're going. And I've got him on speed dial on this thing, just in case," Carly said, waving the comm pad.

"Ah, excellent idea," Djsuro said. He craned his thick neck around to look behind them, probably to see if the ship was still in sight. But after a few twists in the canyon, the _Ark_ had vanished. "Ah, are we going much further?"

Barricade hummed into Bluestreak's audial. "This is probably far enough," he said. They had reached a small clearing just before the canyon opened up into a valley. The clearing was surrounded by scrubby pines, and the ground was covered in dry grass and gravel, all sparkling with a light dusting of fresh snow. "We just needed to be away from the main part of the fight. Put me down here."

Bluestreak knelt, leaning backwards to lower Barricade to the ground. As Djsuro hopped off his shoulder, Bluestreak turned in time to see Barricade grimace as he rearranged his legs. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Oh, no. Ratchet disabled all the pain sensors below my waist before I even woke up after the attack. It's just awkward having to rearrange these dead weights every time I move." With both hands he shifted his left leg until it was lying flat on the ground. "I'll be happy when I get these fixed."

Bluestreak held his hand up for Carly to step into so that he could set her on the ground next to Djsuro. "Ratchet said the parts for your legs are getting manufactured now," Bluestreak said. "Like I told you, when I lost my legs in a battle it took them **months** to make the replacement parts. Before you know it, they'll have you good as new." He tried to sound optimistic, but he wasn't sure how successful he was.

Barricade would be repaired so long as this gambit worked... So long as Starscream held up his end of whatever half-baked deal they were in.... So long as the Autobots won this battle.

So many if's. Bluestreak frowned and shoved those thoughts from his processor.

"Just so long as I can move around on my own soon, that'll be good enough for me," Barricade said. "Primus knows I'm a long way from being new." Drawing the Decepticon locator beacon from his subspace, Barricade turned it over in his hands. It was round, and about the size of both of Barricade's fists put together. He pressed a button in it, and the beacon lit up and began to blink. With a gentle toss, Barricade threw it into the air. The beacon moved up and down slightly as if orienting itself, hovering about three meters off the ground. Then it beeped and began rotating rapidly. Barricade nodded. "There. Now, we wait."

"That's pretty neat!" Carly watched the beacon for a moment before glancing upwards nervously. "How long will it take for Starscream to see it?"

"It depends on how far away he is," Barricade replied. "Although I don't think he'll be too far." To the east, they could hear the rumble of explosions and blaster fire. Bluestreak pointedly did not call up his message queue. Over their bond, Prowl felt focused but calm, so Bluestreak hoped that meant the battle was going well. 

But worry still crept around the edges of Bluestreak's processor. He scanned the sky before bringing his gaze back to the beacon again. "And what if it's not Starscream who answers the beacon?" The beacons he'd used in the Autobots were just general distress beacons, designed to draw the attention of any Autobots in the area.

"It **will** be Starscream." Barricade reached up to tap the side of the beacon, changing its spin for a moment before it stopped and started spinning in the pattern it had already established. "This is one of the beacons that only the Seekers use," he said. "The Air Commander designed them himself early in the war, after the Autobots realized how much of a threat the Seekers were, and started targeting them specifically."

Bluestreak nodded, remembering the orders that were issued not too long after he was assigned to combat missions. They were advised to fire on any Seeker they saw, whether it posed a danger or not. The rationale for the order was that if they didn't bring the Seeker down, they **would** end up posing a danger to them eventually. "Yeah," he said quietly. "We did."

Barricade glanced at Bluestreak, dipping his wings before continuing. "Every Seeker carries their own set of beacons, all keyed to their own frequency so they can't be used by the enemy. They're designed to be used at any altitude, and will stay an exact distance from whoever deployed them until they're deactivated. Each Seeker has one to call for their whole squadron, another to call for any Seeker in the area, and... Another to call their squad leader." He leaned back on his hands as he watched the beacon spin. "The Air Commander reprogrammed one of his own squad's beacons so I could use it. It was the safest way to contact him without going through the main Decepticon frequencies."

"Ah, so is Starscream going to be alone?" Djsuro asked, looking up at Barricade. He was crouched on the ground next to the damaged Praxian, sorting through the gear he'd brought with him.

"Unlikely," Barricade said, shifting his gaze to the sky. His voice was calm, but his door wings betrayed his unease, flicking up and down erratically. "He'll probably have his trine with him."

Bluestreak tried to quell the fresh surge of worry in his spark before it could bleed through to Prowl. He remembered all of the deployments he'd been on where they had faced Seekers. They were fast and deadly.

And there was never only **one** Seeker.

The roar of thrusters echoed off the walls of the canyon behind them, and Bluestreak instinctively lifted his rifle and scanned the sky. There, coming in from the west, away from the direction of fighting, was a tight formation of three Seekers. Bluestreak's optics picked out that the leading seeker was grey, highlighted with red and blue, while the trailing seekers were purple and black, and blue and silver.

Starscream, and his trine.

"Are you sure about this?" Bluestreak said, trying not to let his nervousness work its way into his voice. The sound of the Seekers' engines as they grew closer brought back memories of battles fought years earlier, and of the losses sustained in those battles. With Barricade laying practically helpless at his pedes, and the two organics depending on him for protection, and the Seekers swooping in close, Bluestreak's confidence wavered. The worry he'd been feeling earlier spilled into the bond.

Then Prowl's confidence in Bluestreak washed over him. Bluestreak hungrily leaned into that support.

"Pretty sure," Barricade said, watching as the Seekers transformed and fell to the ground with resounding thuds just a few dozen meters away. "I **think** I'm pretty sure, anyway." He straightened up, as much as he was able to do from a sitting position, and nodded at Starscream as the Seekers approached. "Air Commander," he said. He glanced at the purple and blue Seekers behind Starscream, who both had their arm weapons aimed at Bluestreak. "Lieutenants."

"Barricade." Starscream's optics swept over Barricade's crushed legs, and he lifted a brow ridge, a smile playing on his lips. "I see the Autobots have been taking **excellent** care of you."

Carly stamped the ground as she stared up at the towering Seeker. "His injuries are **your** fault," she said. She lifted her chin defiantly, meeting the much larger Seeker's gaze. "If you hadn't bombed their ship, he wouldn't be like this!"

Starscream looked down at Carly, seeming to notice her for the first time. He frowned at her for a moment, then flicked one of his wings dismissively. "You know how it is," he said in perfect English with a shrug. "War. Orders. **Loyalty.** " The last word came out with a sneer. He focused on the rifle that Bluestreak still had trained on him and switched back to Cybertronian. "Speaking of war, I'd appreciate it if you would aim that thing someplace else. We won't shoot you unless you give us reason to."

Barricade looked up at Bluestreak. "It's all right, Blue," he said.

Bluestreak's sensors could still pick up the ultrasonic sound of charged weapon capacitors coming from the Seekers' arm weaponry. He hesitated for a moment, considering his options, before finally lowering his rifle to point it at the ground. "If you do anything to Barricade, or to any of us..." Bluestreak trailed off, unsure how to finish the threat. He could probably take out one of the Seekers if necessary – maybe two – but there was no way he could kill all three before they disabled him.

"Yes, yes, mutually assured destruction and all that. Whatever." Starscream rolled his optics, then looked around the small clearing pointedly. "I hope you summoned me for good news, Barricade," he said. "But I don't see Ratchet here. We don't have time for just a status update." He glared down at Barricade. "I hate to tell you this, but you are out of time. The Autobots somehow infiltrated the _Nemesis_ and stole the control module for the cybermatter weapon. Lord Megatron is **furious**. He intends on killing every last Autobot on Earth in retaliation." Starscream's wings twitched slightly and he glanced at Bluestreak again. "Just be glad that his orders left room for interpretation, as usual. If the fool knew how to properly codify an order, this war would have been over when we attacked your ship the first time." He glared back at Barricade and lifted his lip in a sneer, baring a fang. "So what do you want? It won't be long before our Lord notices I'm missing."

Barricade gestured at the Povian who was standing beside him. "This is Djsuro," he said. "His specialization is in Cybertronian processors and AI coding." Barricade spoke strongly, his roughened voice managing to be heard over the sounds of the battle just a klick away. "Djsuro developed a... a cure for the loyalty microcode that Megatron implanted in all of us."

"An organic?" Starscream's disbelief was plain. "You expect me to believe that an organic was able to..." He trailed off, his right hand floating up to his chest as if on its own accord. He blinked, and his wings twitched. "Wait... **what** did you say?"

The grin on Barricade's face was exactly like the one Bluestreak remembered from so long ago, when Barricade was gloating about some prank he'd pulled on a coworker. "I **said** , this organic removed the microcode. Megatron has no hold over me now." He pulled a vent, his door wings fluttering behind him as though he was just coming to the full realization himself. "I can talk about the code – and what it's done to me – without pain. I'm online, my spark is unshielded, I'm within a few klicks of Megatron, and I'm still alive." His smile softened and his wings fluttered again. "I'm free."

Djsuro held up the tiny device he'd used to deploy the coding fix to Barricade. "Ah, I can install the program that deploys the patch for you today. Well, programs, really. There's three separate ones that need to be run in a specific order."

Starscream frowned. "How do I know this isn't some sort of trick? How do I know this..." The hand he'd placed over his spark tightened into a fist, and his optics narrowed to glowing red slits. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate ruse designed to offline us?"

Bluestreak flared his door wings out wide. "You **asked** us to find a solution!" he exclaimed. "Now we did, and you don't want it?"

The power of Starscream's glare turned on Bluestreak. "You offer very little in the way of proof that this cure actually works, other than his word," he said gesturing at Barricade. "How do I know you haven't just supplanted one puppetmaster for another? How do I know that his spark isn't now locked to the Prime's? Or to yours?" Starscream swept up to Bluestreak to tower over him, pointing one dangerous talon at the Praxian's chest. Bluestreak resisted taking a step backwards away from the Seeker. "After all, you were once bonded to him. How do I know that you didn't just take this opportunity to get your bond mate back **and** to have a handy Decepticon drone at your disposal?"

Bluestreak felt Prowl reach out to him in response to the fear that surged through his lines as he looked up at the much taller Seeker. Bluestreak clung to Prowl's presence for courage even as his wing sensors indicated that the Seeker's arm weapons were still fully charged and ready to fire. He firmed his grip on his rifle, ready to swing the stock upwards into Starscream's face at a moment's notice.

He knew it would probably be the last thing he ever did, but maybe it would give the organics time to slip away.

But before Bluestreak needed to make that decision, the blue Seeker (Thundercracker, Bluestreak remembered from Barricade's descriptions) made an exclamation of frustration. "For Pit's sake. You can test it on me, then."

Starscream's optics went wide, and he whirled around to face his trine mate. "No! I forbid it!" he screeched. "We need to make sure that this 'fix' does what they say it does!"

From the ground behind Bluestreak, Carly pressed her translation device to her ear, trying to follow the Cybertronian conversation. "Maybe... Maybe you could let him review the source code, like Ratchet did? Would that work?" she asked.

As Starscream hesitated, Thundercracker put his hand on his shoulder. "I don't think there's enough time for that," Thundercracker said. "Lord Megatron is gunning to wipe out all of the Autobots this time, although they're putting up one Pit of a fight." His statement was punctuated by an explosion further down the canyon, its sound echoing off the high rocky walls. "And..." His hand drifted down to take Starscream's in his. "He's already furious with you, Star, for not destroying their ship when you had the chance."

Starscream stared at Thundercracker for a beat, his wings flared out wide, before his shoulders slumped and he seemed to draw into himself. "Fine," he said, then glared at Bluestreak. "But if anything goes wrong, I'm killing your traitorous ex-bond mate first." He pointed at Barricade for a moment before dropping his arm.

Maybe it was Bluestreak's imagination, but it looked like Starscream's hand was shaking.

Thundercracker shook his helm, then strode forward to stand over Barricade. "All right. What do you need me to do?"

Djsuro lifted the device and unwound the cables attached to it. "Ah, I'll need access to your medical ports," he said, jumping lightly up onto Barricade's lap. "Oh! And you'll need to lower your firewalls so the code can install. It might be best if you lay down. I'll need to monitor the deployment and queue the programs to launch at the correct time. I didn't have time to write a carrier program for this, although that might be... Hmm, _chirrir chirr_..." He mumbled to himself in Povian as he fiddled with the code insertion device. As Thundercracker lowered himself to the ground, Djsuro jumped off Barricade's lap and shrugged. "Ah, well, enhancements can come later. All right, let's see your ports now..."

While Djsuro plugged his device into Thundercracker's neck ports, Starscream marched off into the clearing, muttering to himself. His wings twitched up and down, and he gestured as if having an animated discussion with an unseen opponent. Barricade looked up at Skywarp, who had come over to kneel beside Thundercracker. "What's his damage, anyway?" Barricade growled. "We've all been looking for some way out from under Megatron's treads ever since the code was installed. **You're** the one who told me how hard Screamer – err, the Air Commander has been working on this. **You're** the one who told him that we **needed** to cooperate with the Autobots to stop Megatron."

"Hmph. Yeah, I was." Skywarp turned slightly to watch Starscream pacing back and forth on the far side of the clearing. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued, pitched so that Starscream could not easily overhear him. "You've seen the kind of stuff Lord Megatron's done to him in public." When Barricade nodded, Skywarp's wings dipped low. "Star's endured even worse in private." He vented in frustration and looked at Barricade again. "You remember how happy Lord Megatron was at the beginning to have the Vosian air force on his side. Well, after that..." Skywarp touched his chest and shook his helm slightly. "Lord Megatron decided he **enjoyed** having a pet Seeker around, to be at his beck and call." Skywarp grimaced, revealing his sharpened fangs. "The things he did to him..." His voice trailed off into a low growl.

"It made Starscream desperate to find a way to get free of Lord Megatron," Thundercracker said. From the ground, he looked up at Skywarp, then glanced at Barricade. "And it made him paranoid. He hasn't trusted anyone, **really** trusted them, in ages. Except us. His trine." Thundercracker lifted his hand, covering the hand that Skywarp had placed on his shoulder.

Barricade's wings had fallen as he listened to the Seekers. When Thundercracker fell silent, Barricade nodded. "That explains a lot, actually," he said quietly, and wrapped his arms around himself.

Bluestreak wracked his memory for anything Barricade had told him about Starscream, but most of it had been related to battles fought or orders that Barricade had been issued over the course of the war. Anything personal, whether it was about Barricade himself or anyone else, had only been talked about in the broadest, most vague terms. When Bluestreak had mentioned that to Smokescreen, worrying that Barricade might be hiding something from him, Smokescreen suggested that Barricade might not be quite ready to talk about his experiences in the Decepticons, especially if they had been traumatic.

Perhaps that reluctance had extended to things he'd known or heard about from other Decepticons, too.

As Djsuro continued to work on Thundercracker, Bluestreak checked his comm queue. He felt his spark drop as he saw all of the battlefield reports, orders coming in from combat team leads, and situation reports issued by Prowl and Red Alert. They painted a picture of a battle going poorly. One message tagged specifically for Bluestreak from Ironhide blinked at him. _As soon as you're sure old Starscream ain't gonna kill Barricade or Djsuro, let me know. We could really use you out here, Corporal._

Ironhide's order was backed by a short status message from Prowl. _Autobot position failing._ _Situation becoming critical. Additional firepower requested ASAP._

Before Bluestreak could even ping an acknowledgement of either message, Thundercracker made a garbled noise and his optics flickered. His wings twitched, scraping against the rocky ground as his hands spasmed at his side. A moment later, his engine whined down, his optics went dark, and he went limp as his systems shut down.

" **What did you do to him?"** Starscream shrieked. He fired his heel thrusters, shooting across the small clearing in an instant. He raised his arms, pointing his weapons at Bluestreak and Djsuro, his fangs bared and his optics bright with fury. "What did you **do**? I **knew** this was a trick! I **knew** this was just a way to kill us off, one by one!"

Bluestreak snapped his rifle up, aiming it directly at Starscream's helm as his wing sensors gathered data and his processor ran through scenarios. If he shot Starscream in the helm, he would have approximately 0.42 astroseconds to adjust his aim to kill Skywarp before the other Seeker could bring his weapons to bear on him. But if Skywarp teleported away-

Djsuro stood frozen, his fur bristled out from his body as he stared up at the muzzle of the weapon pointed directly at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could make a sound, Skywarp jumped to his pedes and pushed Starscream's arms into the air. The weapon that had been aimed at Bluestreak fired, the bolt sailing harmlessly into the sky over Bluestreak's helm, and it took every bit of Bluestreak's training to stop him from reflexively firing his own weapon. "Star! Stop! He's fine! Just feel... You can **feel** that he's fine!"

"Ah! Ah! It's just a reboot. He's in a medical reboot! I should have mentioned it, I'm sorry!" Djsuro waved his device over his head, chittering something in Povian before switch back to Cybertronian. "I've installed the first and second programs, and he's just rebooting to incorporate the code. The third one's deploying now. He should be back online in a few minutes, and then you'll see!"

Starscream snarled. "If anything's happened to him..."

"He'll be fine. Look, the code is being incorporated into his systems now." Djsuro looked down at the code insertion device, pointing at something on the screen before looking back up at the Seekers towering over him. His ears slowly perked up from where they had been plastered to his skull. "Ah, and I have to say, Air Commander, I was **very** impressed with your research. You did a brilliant job figuring out as much as you did, even under those conditions. Your work gave me a head start towards coming up with the solution. So, thank you." The Povian gave Starscream a very formal bow.

Starscream stared at Djsuro. "It... It did?" he asked. Skywarp still held his arms towards the sky, but Starscream had stop struggling in his trine mate's grasp.

"Ah, yes! Of course, quite a bit was wrong, and I had to backtrack a bit from the approach you had been taking, but you definitely laid the foundation for the next stage of work." Djsuro smiled at Starscream, his whiskers vibrating. "Once I'm done here, I'd be happy to show you how."

Finally lowering his arms and irritably shrugging himself out of Skywarp's embrace, Starscream scowled. Or rather, it looked like he was trying to scowl, but the effect was ruined by the tiny flutter of his wings. "Yes, of course," he said. "And I'll be happy to show you how you probably could have done it more efficiently." He looked down at Thundercracker. "How long until he's back online?"

"Ah, his systems are starting back up now," Djsuro said. "Should just be another minute or so."

Convinced that the immediate threat Starscream posed had faded again, Bluestreak went to one knee beside Barricade. He saw Barricade furtively slipping the blaster that Prowl had given him back into his subspace; Bluestreak didn't think that either Seeker had noticed that Barricade was armed. Bluestreak leaned in towards Barricade. "They need me out there," he said quietly, jerking his thumb behind him, towards where the sounds of a raging battle still echoed down the canyon. He glanced at Starscream, who was now kneeling beside Thundercracker, watching as his trine mate slowly rebooted. "I don't want you leave you alone, Cade, but..."

Barricade looked at the Seekers for a moment before turning back to Bluestreak. "I think we'll be all right," he said. "But maybe you should drop Carly off at the ship on your way past."

"No! I need to stay here!" Carly exclaimed. She looked at the Seekers and lowered her voice. "Barricade's comms aren't working. I can use Djsuro's comm pad to call for help if we need anything. That way he can focus on deploying the code."

Bluestreak frowned, knowing that if Barricade and the organics truly needed help, the situation would be over before the Autobots could even respond to the call. But Barricade nodded at Carly's suggestion. "I think it's a good idea," he said. He patted his subspace pocket and added, "I'll keep them safe."

His frown deepening, Bluestreak was about to say that a single blaster wielded by a mech who couldn't move or stand up wouldn't do much against a single Seeker, let alone three. But a large explosion boomed down the canyon, and a new flurry of battlefield updates skimmed up his HUD, too fast for him to review them all. He keyed in on another message from Prowl: _Repeat: Situation critical. Need additional firepower now. Bluestreak, please reply immediately if you are able to comply._

Bluestreak pinged back a response, copying in Ironhide. _I'm on my way. I'll be there in two minutes._ His message was answered by a wave of anxious gratitude from Prowl, and a short list of positions that Bluestreak could report to. "All right," he said, patting Baricade's shoulder. "But call **immediately** if anything happens, got it?" he asked, pointing at Djsuro's comm pad as he stood up.

Carly nodded. "Absolutely."

Thundercracker had finished rebooting, and was blinking up at Starscream. "It's really gone, Star," he said. His gaze turned inwards, and he pressed his hand to his chest. "It's gone, and-" Thundercracker lurched up to a sitting position, reaching out to grab Starscream's hand. "It's gone, and... Star, I can make Lord Megatron **pay** for what he's done to you. To all of us."

Starscream's optics went wide, and he leaned forward to press his helm to Thundercracker's, his long talons wrapping around the back of his trine mate's helm almost tenderly. "Show me," Starscream murmured. "Show me."

Skimming the list of battle reports again, Bluestreak pressed his lips to Barricade's cheek before standing up. He paused, wanting to tell Djsuro to hurry up and install the fix in Starscream, or to urge Starscream to do what he could to stop the Decepticons and hold up his end of the deal ("There **is** no deal," Prowl muttered in his mind), but both Starscream's and Thundercracker's optics were closed, their forehelms pressed tightly together and their wings lowered.

Only Skywarp looked up at Bluestreak, his own wings spread wide as if to protect his trine mates from prying sensors. "Go on," he said quietly. He glanced at Barricade and the two organics, then back up at Bluestreak as the sound of yet another explosion rumbled over them. "They'll be safe here."

A century of war, of battle instincts, and of military conditioning, made Bluestreak hesitate just a moment longer, staring at the black and purple Seeker and the lurid Decepticon brands on his wings. Turning your back on an enemy – on a Seeker! - especially during a battle, was a sure way to get yourself deactivated, or worse.

But then Barricade patted Bluestreak's pede. His own purple sigil was still on his chest: scratched and faded, but still recognizable. Barricade smiled reassuringly at Bluestreak and lifted his wings. "Go on, Blue. We've got this." He gestured at the two organics standing beside him.

Before his processor could give him any more reason for delay, Bluestreak nodded, stepped away from the group, and transformed. He gunned his engine and raced off towards the ship as the sound of battle echoed down the canyon.


	68. The Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak returns to the battle to find the Autobots are at a disadvantage... And in danger of losing.

The closest position that Prowl provided to Bluestreak was on a cliff near the rear of the ship, easily accessible by jumping from boulder to boulder up the crumbled side of the side canyon. As he climbed, Bluestreak skimmed over the most recent reports from the battlefield. What he saw did not fill him with optimism; almost half of the reports were of casualties that had already been sustained.

As Bluestreak made his way up the canyon's wall, he skimmed his awareness over the bond again. Prowl was a tense knot of focus, his processor firmly entrenched in the task at hand. Bluestreak sent him a loving pulse before moving on to Smokescreen. Again, across the distance between them, Smokescreen's presence was faint but clear. He had a sense of accomplishment of a job well done, but also an eddy of worry. If he and his team had still been near the _Nemesis_ when the Decepticons left to attack the _Ark_ , there probably would have been no doubt as to where they were headed.

Bluestreak sent Smokescreen a burst of love before putting up a partial block on the bond. He needed to focus. Based on the messages on the combat channel, the Autobots had their work cut out for them.

When Bluestreak finally reached his destination, an outcropping just north of the _Ark_ overlooking the canyon that the ship was sitting in, he paused for a moment to scan the field, looking for targets. Plasma bolts flew everywhere, with the _Ark's_ energy cannons laying down a veritable blanket of fire. The Akkiel who were commanding the cannons seemed to be well-coordinated, with one bank of cannons firing while the other recharged.

But even with the _Ark's_ firepower at their backs, it was evident that the Autobots were at a disadvantage.

A Decepticon combiner towered over the field, less than a klick away from the ship. The huge construct waded forward through the fire from the _Ark's_ cannons, but it seemed to shake off most of the bolts as little more than a nuisance. As Autobot troops ran towards it, firing their seemingly ineffectual weapons at it, the combiner roared and brought its fists down to the ground with a devastating thud, sending mechs flying through the air. "Menasor, **smash**!" the combiner thundered in an impossibly deep voice, before falling back to bellowing incoherently. Bluestreak remembered the other combiners he'd encountered (including the Autobots' Superion) being a little more eloquent than that.

As for the Autobots' combiner, Bluestreak spotted it further down the canyon, almost out of sight around one of the turns. Superion was locked in battle with another combiner, this one green and purple, grappling with it in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Bluestreak scanned the canyon once more, looking for the third Decepticon combiner that Barricade had told them about, but there was thankfully no sign of it. Meanwhile, in the skies above the battle, Seekers soared and dove into the battle, taking turns strafing the Autobots on the ground while dodging fire from the _Ark's_ cannons.

Bluestreak pinged the combat channel as soon as he was in position and received an immediate response from the Command Centre, tagged with Prowl's ID. _All other artillery units damaged._ _Priority target: Disable Decepticon combiner closest to the ship. Secondary targets: Disable any and all Decepticon air units attacking Autobot positions. Tertiary targets: Disable any and all Decepticon ground units._ Prowl's presence in Bluestreak's spark had become completely one-sided as he suppressed his emotions to prioritize his work, like he often did when he was fully submerged in an analysis or a simulation.

Except this wasn't a simulation. This was for real.

And Bluestreak was the only artillery unit left? What happened to Warpath, or Sidetrack, or Topshot? He hadn't been away from the battle for **that** long, had he? Then he shook his helm. If he was the only artillery mech still operating, then he needed to make **sure** he got that combiner down.

Focusing his attention on Menasor, Bluestreak activated his targeting systems. The combiner, a dark grey construct with multicoloured limbs, lurched forward, swinging its arms low to grab at a group of Autobots near its pedes. It lifted a mech into the air, then hurled it back at the ground. "Menasor, **crush**!" it bellowed. Bluestreak gritted his dentae as the mech was thrown against the rocky floor of the canyon, remembering the sensation of the same thing happening to him the first time he'd run into a combiner team. That was a lesson Bluestreak had learned the hard way: stay out of reach of a combiner, if at all possible.

After the combiner technology had been introduced, Bluestreak had both attended many briefings on how to bring down a combiner, and had helped supply data on them from his own experiences. The key to bringing down a combiner was to target its weak spots: the combiner ports. The places where the mechs who made up the construct were joined together were the best places to hit it: the shoulders and the hips. That was where their armor was the weakest, and thus it was your best chance to sever a limb.

Severing a limb from a combiner didn't just cripple it like it would a normal mech, but also made it less intelligent. When he was explaining it to Bluestreak, Slingshot had called it 'decreasing the cognitive synergy,' but Bluestreak had gotten the impression that Slingshot didn't actually know what that meant. In practice, however, it meant that as you removed component mechs from it, a combiner became slower and less responsive to threats. It also tended to make stupider decisions, simply reacting to a situation instead of working through it.

A combiner could still operate if it was missing one limb, even if it was slower and dumber. But once you removed two limbs, the construct would almost always fall apart into its constituent mechs, who could then be dealt with individually.

Bluestreak transformed, falling to four wheels and locking his brakes as he readied his missiles. The outcropping he was perched on was not very wide, and he knew from a war's worth of experience that the best way for him to not get knocked over when firing his missiles was to get his center of gravity as low as possible. As soon as his targeting systems pinpointed an area on the combiner's hip, he released both of his armed missiles, skidding backwards a few meters from the force of the double launch. The missiles flew straight towards the combiner, tracking to match the predicted movement of the giant mech, before vanishing in a burst of fire and debris as they detonated on impact.

Menasor howled, its deep voice reverberated off the canyon's walls. The combiner fell to the right, vanishing in a cloud of snow and dust, and a resonating thud shook the ground under Bluestreak's wheels. Bluestreak amplified his sensors, trying to see through the hazy cloud. _I can't tell if it broke apart! Can someone confirm the combiner's status?_ Bluestreak sent over the combat channel.

Bluestreak immediately received several messages back – some a bit hysterical – confirming that the combiner was still active. His processor keyed in on a familiar ID: Sunstreaker's report was much less frantic and gave Bluestreak additional, more useful information. _The left leg's separated, but the combiner's starting to pull itself along on the ground with its arms. Can you get a targeting lock for another strike, Blue?_

From inside the clouds of powdery snow, Blustreak heard the combiner bellow again. More faintly, he heard someone down on the battlefield scream. Even crawling on the ground, a combiner was a dangerous opponent.

 _No, my sensors are getting confused by the snow. I've only got two missiles left and I don't want to miss._ Bluestreak transformed back into root mode to see if his optical sensors had better luck than his vehicle mode's sensors. If anything, it was a bit worse. The plumes of dust and snow that had been kicked up by the fall of the combiner were now settling back down, creating shadows and swirls that might have been a giant mech, or might have been his imagination. Bluestreak chewed on his lower lip as he tried to think of options other than waiting for the particulate matter to clear, or for the combiner to crawl its way out of the cloud. _Sunstreaker, do you or Sideswipe have a targeting laser you could paint one of the shoulders with? My sensors could just lock onto that._

Sideswipe immediately pinged back an affirmative, and Bluestreak transformed back into his vehicle mode. He switched his sensors to scan for the targeting laser that the twins had used for him many times during their deployments on Cybertron. A moment later his sensors lit up with the familiar glow of the laser light: a bright spot in the sparkling swirls, lurching back and forth as the combiner dragged itself forward with its arms, roaring incomprehensibly.

Bluestreak took another moment to confirm his launch calculations, then fired his remaining two missiles.

The missiles disappeared into the veil of snow an instant before Bluestreak heard an explosion, and a gout of flame lit up the inside of the cloud. A cheer rose from the Autobots on the ground, and several messages on the combat channel immediately confirmed that the combiner had broken apart into its components. It sounded like two of them were already offline, shocked by the violent separation of their minds.

Another roar of rage, not quite as loud as the combiner's, drew Bluestreak's attention. He transformed back to root mode and looked back and forth across the battlefield below him. The voice yelled again, and this time Bluestreak could make out the words and Megatron's voice, amplified so that it echoed off of the canyon's walls. He finally picked out the Decepticon leader standing on a mound of rock, shaking his fists at the sky. "Seekers! Where are my Seekers?"

The crew members controlling the _Ark's_ weaponry must have spotted the tankformer as well, because the ship's cannons fired on Megatron's position. Megatron dove out of the way, transforming as he fell to land on his treads to return fire.

 _Good on ya for distracting Starscream, Corporal._ Ironhide's private message to Bluestreak was brief and to the point. _I figured we'd lose his squad, but **all** of the Seekers? We've actually got a fightin' chance now._ The General added a glyph representing a formal salute.

Bluestreak looked skyward and took note of the same thing that Ironhide had: that the air over the canyon was now free of Seekers. Did Starscream call them all back? Was this it? Bluestreak's spark gave a little hopeful quaver as he lifted his hand to his audial, preparing to open a connection to Djsuro's comm pad to ask Carly what was happening. Surely she could fill him in without drawing too much attention to herself.

But before Bluestreak could open the comm, Megatron's voice rang out again, fury making his words ragged at their edges. "Combaticons! Combine to form Bruticus! Take out the guns on that ship! Destroy them all!"

The snow and dust that had risen from the fall of Menasor was finally clearing, and Bluestreak could see huge gouges in the canyon's floor where the combiner had collapsed. The Autobots were advancing up the canyon again, their blasters creating tiny flashes of light as they fired on the Decepticons' line. But at Megatron's order, there was a sudden flurry of motion just behind the front line of Decepticons, loud clanks and banging... And before Bluestreak's optics, another combiner rose to its pedes.

Bluestreak had watched Superion form a few times, mostly on those first missions when they were testing the combiner technology. It had always seemed like a wonder, seeing five mechs twist and transform and merge into one giant being. It might have been just his imagination, but Bluestreak had always thought he could tell the moment that the five mechs stopped being separate individuals and became one being, the moment that the combiner woke and assumed control of its limbs and helm and mind.

He was sure that he saw it happen this time, too... Only this time, it felt like a nightmare had awoken.

"Bruticus: online." The Decepticons' third combiner lifted its helm high, scanning over the battlefield. It balled one of its fists and slammed it into the palm of its other hand. "Prepare for pain, little Autobots."

This new combiner was the same height as Menasor. But while Menasor had seemed like a mindless brute, just barely intelligent enough to be pointed at enemies and told to attack them, there was a distinct light of cunning in Bruticus's optics. The way it looked down at the Autobots sent a chill through Bluestreak's lines. Bluestreak recalled Barricade mentioning that Vortex, the other Decepticon interrogator, was a member of this combiner team, and his penchant for cruelty helped form part of Bruticus's personality.

With a motion more fluid and smooth than Menasor's shambling gait, Bruticus lifted one giant leg and stepped forward, heading towards the _Ark_.

 _Take it down! Take it down!_ Ironhide's order was blasted over the combat channels. _Bluestreak,_ g _et that thing down before it reaches the ship!_

Bluestreak replied immediately, tagging his message with a priority marker. _I'm out of missiles. Taking down the last combiner emptied me out. I need to reload._ He started jumping down off of the cliff face, making his way towards the ship. _Who's running munitions for us and where should I meet them?_

The reply to Bluestreak was from the Command Centre, this time from Red Alert. _Munitions crew was hit during last Seeker sortie. We are arranging a new crew. Stand by._

Bluestreak stopped in his tracks. _General, without missiles I won't be able to stop him!_ Bluestreak pinged at Ironhide.

Bruticus had moved forward another few hundred meters in the few moments that conversation had taken, its long legs eating up the distance. Two gigantic cannons set above its shoulders angled downward a moment before they lit up with a burst of power, and two high-calibre plasma bolts fired out of them.

The ground in front of Bruticus erupted into flame, sending rocks and Autobots flying. Status indicators peppered the combat channel, indicating several more mechs that the blast had taken offline.

Bluestreak could almost hear Ironhide's growl even over text. _Superion, stop screwin' around with that other guy and get over here! Stop this thing before it gets to the ship!_

Down at the other end of the canyon, Superion turned its helm towards the main battle, pinging an acknowledgement over the combat channel. But that moment of distraction was all that Devestator needed. The Decepticon combiner swung its huge arm backwards, and then its powerful punch connected with Superion's helm, sending the Autobot combiner reeling backwards. Devestator pounced on Superion, hitting and tearing, and the two of them went down into another cloud of snow.

In the combat channel's status indicator list, the notifications came almost immediately. _Superion: Offline. Air Raid: Offline. Silverbolt: Offline._

Bluestreak knew that if he'd been standing closer to Ironhide down on the battlefield, he probably would have been able to hear the general swearing up a storm. As it was, Ironhide's next order was curt. _Hound, use one of those fancy combiner holograms you have loaded to distract that other combiner while we deal with this one._

Bluestreak didn't know where on the battlefield Hound was, but a moment later a red and teal combiner rose up at the edge of the canyon, away from where any Decepticon troops were. It strode towards Devestator, firing blasts from its shoulder cannons, just barely missing the green and purple combiner.

Bluestreak knew that Hound's holograms could not actually damage anything, but Hound had become very skilled at making it look like they were a serious threat. Taking the bait, Devestator turned and started lumbering towards the holographic combiner.

Bringing his attention back to Bruticus, Bluestreak raised his rifle and fired off a few shots at the combiner from halfway across the canyon. Even at close range, his rifle wasn't powerful enough to do any serious damage to the construct; from this distance, his shots would hardly even be noticed. He was just about to ping the combat channel again, asking for an update on the missile situation, when Ironhide sent a message. _Now that Hound's buyin' us some time, let's see if we can get-_

Ironhide's message ended in a garbled mess. The status indicator blinked a notice. _Ironhide: Offline._

 _All Autobots, report immediately if you have optics on the Prime, or on Ironhide._ Prowl's message was tagged as high-priority, overriding all other messages that were being thrown back and forth. A twisted coil of fear had taken root in the bond, even though Bluestreak could tell Prowl had a partial block up between them. _Repeat, does anyone have optics on the Prime?_

_Trailbreaker here. I have Ironhide. He took a hit right to his power core. Hoist is on the way for him._

_And the Prime?_ Prowl's message was triple tagged as urgent. _Anyone, report. Where is he?_ A pause. _Prime, what is your status?_

From his vantage halfway up the wall of the canyon, Bluestreak scanned the battlefield again. As soon as he found the Prime, he pinged Prowl directly. _Prowl, I see him. He's... He's going hand-to-hand with Megatron!_

Bluestreak wished he had missiles loaded, although he wasn't sure what he could have done with them. At least he wouldn't have felt so useless. As it was, all he could do was watch the Prime, the leader of the Autobots, the one mech who was able to give the whole faction a vision of hope for the future even amongst all of the death they'd seen... All Bluestreak could do was watch as the Prime traded blows with the tyrant who had brought their planet and their race to ruin.

The Prime swung his fist at Megatron, who easily sidestepped the swing and countered with his own punch, one that connected with the Prime's blast mask and sent him reeling backwards. But before Megatron could raise his fusion cannon to fire at the Prime, Optimus kicked Megatron's legs out from under him, sending the tankformer sprawling back into the canyon's snow-covered floor.

Bluestreak raised his rifle, trying to target Megatron, trying to get any sort of shot in order to distract him. But he was so far away, and the two leaders were struggling so intensely, that there was no way for Bluestreak to get a clear shot. His engine snarled in frustration as he tried to pinpoint Megatron through his rifle sight. _Prime, sir! If you can get away from him, I might be able to get a clean shot at him and-_

The Prime's message was short and curt, cutting through Bluestreak's words. _I'll be fine. Focus on the combiner. Protect the_ Ark _!_

Just as Bluestreak's processor registered the Prime's message, he felt a wave of muted terror through the bond from Prowl. Bluestreak turned to look back at the ship, and he saw what had caused the fear to rise in Prowl's spark.

Bruticus had reached the _Ark_ despite the spattering of blaster fire from the Autobots on the ground and from the three Aerialbots who were now circling its helm, unable to form Superion with two of their team mates disabled. With a guttural laugh, Bruticus grabbed at the weapons bank mounted above the starboard engine, seemingly oblivious to the burns his hands and chest were sustaining from the still-firing cannons. With a crushing grind of metal on metal, Bruticus yanked the cannons free of their mount, flinging what was left of the weapons bank over his shoulder, sparks flying through the air.

"One down," Bruticus growled, and turned towards the other rear weapons bank on the other side of the ship.

The combat channel was a mess of conflicting information. With Ironhide offline, command of the ground troops would normally fall to Jazz, who was still away on his mission with Smokescreen. After that, Silverbolt... But he was also offline. Team leaders were supposed to pick up the slack in these cases, but Prowl and Red Alert were struggling to make sense of what was happening on the ground and how next best to proceed, and all of the team leads who were still online were waiting for some sort of indication on what to do next against a combiner that seemed unstoppable.

But Bluestreak plenty of experience with combiners through the war. He knew that even without missiles, a combiner could still be brought down... If everyone could work together.

Bluestreak tagged everyone still online in the combat channel, and set his message as high of a priority has he had clearance to do. _All units! We can take that thing down if everyone shoots at the same place and the same time, and we do enough damage to it! We all just need someone to call out where to fire!_

There was a flurry of confusion over the channel: team leads discussing where to fire, troops who'd fought combiners giving their opinions on where they should target first, and others (mostly mechs who'd taken a dim view of Bluestreak's relationship with Barricade) dismissing his suggestion. But all of the chatter faded as Prowl overrode all of the crosstalk. _All units, comply with Corporal Bluestreak's instructions. Bluestreak... You have the lead. Call out the targets._ A notification popped up on Bluestreak's HUD indicating that he'd been granted access for top priority messages, accompanied by a brush of gratitude and confidence across the bond.

Bluestreak flared his door wings, wishing he was close enough to get a better reading on the combiner. But he had to work with what he had. _All units, focus on the combiner's left hip. Right under its hip skirting, there's a junction, where the bluish metal meets green. Hit that. Hit it hard, with everything you've got!_ Bluestreak raised his rifle and fired at the spot he had called out, his targeting program tracking the movements of the combiner as it twisted to look down at the Autobots at its pedes.

Immediately, a shower of blaster fire rose from the canyon floor, fired from the few dozen Autobots who were still functioning enough to lift a weapon. The combiner roared, its left arm coming down to protect its hip from the barrage of bolts striking it.

 _Now switch to its left shoulder!_ Bluestreak switched his own target, his optics marking what was most likely the weakest spot in that limb, right where the belly of the rotary met the blue of the shoulder. _Again, hit it with everything!_

The combiner bellowed, this time its deep voice expressing actual pain. It lifted its left hand, its right hand lifting to cover its left shoulder as it turned, trying to shelter its joints from the weapons that sought to separate its limbs from its torso.

_Now, back to the hip! Hit it hard!_

Bluestreak called out each target, switching back and forth, up and down as the combiner flailed, turning and twisting and stumbling as it tried to get away from the focused fire of the Autobots. In a macabre imitation of a dance, it twirled, its giant pedes kicking up rocks and dirt and drifts of snow as it twisted away from the _Ark_ , then cringing back as the _Ark's_ remaining gun emplacement opened fire again, adding its firepower to bringing the construct down.

Then, with a bang and a flash of sparks and flame, the left hip separated from the torso, and the combiner fell to the ground a few hundred meters away from the _Ark_.

Bluestreak squinted through the cloud of snow that erupted from the canyon floor, trying to make out anything of what was happening. He cut through the celebratory messages on the combat channel. _It'll probably still be active. You need to take out another limb, but I can't see what's going on from here. The left shoulder should be weak now. Hit it as hard as you can!_

Sideswipe replied directly to Bluestreak's message. _Copy. We've got point. All units, with us!_

Another message pinged across Bluestreak's HUD from Prowl, accompanied by a touch of affection over the bond. _Well done, Corporal._

Before Bluestreak could do anything more than ping back acknowledgement of the kudos, he heard a shout from the middle off the canyon. On a slight rise of rock, seemingly oblivious to the Autobots and Decepticons around them fighting, Optimus Prime and Megatron grappled with one another. Megatron had a deep gouge in the thick plating on his chest, and the side of his helm was partially bent. Meanwhile, one of the Prime's smokestacks was missing, and the plasteel that made up his chest was shattered.

Bluestreak instinctively lifted his rifle again, sighting down it to see if he could get a shot off on Megatron now. But he was still too far away, and the two of them were still moving around too much, even though Bluestreak could see that they were both starting to tire. However, the Prime looked more tired than Megatron: his motions were slower, his reactions were just an astrosecond too slow, and he took longer to recover from each of his swings.

 _I see the Prime! He's still fighting Megatron. I'm going to try to get closer to see if I can help!_ Before waiting for a response from the Command Centre, Bluestreak leapt down onto the ledges below him, down, down, and as soon as he could he jumped to the canyon's floor, transforming as he fell to land on his tires.

Bluestreak raced towards the two leaders, his tires slipping in the drifts of snow that covered the floor of the canyon as he dodged through a shower of Decepticon blaster fire. Even with the two combiners down, the Decepticons still had far more troops than the Autobots, numbers that were evident in the way they continued to swarm through the canyon.

But this was something that Bluestreak knew how to navigate. Figuring out his own needs, navigating the feelings of others, telling them what he wanted... That was **hard**. But over the course of the war, Bluestreak had experienced more than enough fights like this one to know how to deal with the seemingly endless bursts of enemy fire and the chaotic ebb and flow of a battlefield. He knew how to scan ahead for incoming fire, how to fan out his sensor arrays to pick up where the enemies where, and how to skid sideways to bring his energy cannons to bear on a 'Con without losing control and going into an uncontrolled spin.

Bluestreak saw another flurry of notifications on his HUD and read the message from Sideswipe. _The combiner's down! Great job, everyone! Get those component 'Cons under control and make sure they can't reform that thing!_ The dust surrounding where the second combiner had fallen was slowly clearing. Bluestreak performed a quick visual scan, and he could just make out the Ark through the murk in the fading light.

Hound sent an urgent message across the combat channel. _I think the third Decepticon combiner's figured out that mine isn't real. Do you guys think you can bring down another one?_

As Bluestreak crested the rise where he had last seen the Prime and Megatron fighting, he thought that he heard Sideswipe's cocky reply. But whatever his friend said was lost as he took in the scene on the other side of the rise.

The Prime was on his back, laying on the ground, staring up at Megatron. The warlord stood over him, one broad pede placed firmly on the Prime's shattered chest as he aimed his fusion cannon down at his face. Megatron was laughing, his helm thrown back in obvious delight. Then he looked down at the Prime, a cruel smirk on his lips. "This has been a long time coming, little dockworker," Megatron said. "You must have known your band of sorry followers would eventually fall to the might and order of the Decepticons."

Bluestreak transformed, twisting and rolling from his tires to his pedes in a practiced, fluid motion as he brought his rifle to bear. He knew that Megatron's armor was too thick for his weapon to pierce, and he knew that all he could do was provide a distraction. But hopefully that distraction would be long enough for the Prime to recover and get back on his pedes.

But even as Bluestreak's targeting protocols pinpointed a spot on Megatron's armor that was likely the weakest (just under his broad chest, where his grey plating met the red of his abdomen), a loud voice, like glass scraping across concrete, rang out over the battlefield.

" **Megatron!** "

Starscream hovered above the battlefield in root mode, his heel thrusters burning what must have been a ridiculous amount of fuel to keep him aloft. But behind him were Skywarp and Thundercracker, and behind them were six other seekers, all flanking the Air Commander in a formation that made Bluestreak's haptic net instinctively prickle in alarm.

At Starscream's shout, Megatron paused, and the triumphant smile on his lips faded into a frown. He looked up, and the frown became a scowl. "Starscream! Where have you been hiding, you coward? I order you to-"

"Whatever you are about to say.... **No.** " Starscream's voice was steady, and it carried over the battlefield as if he had been forged to say only those words.

"What do you mean, **no**?" Both of Megatron's hands formed fists, and he swung his fusion cannon upwards to aim at the Seeker hovering above him. "You cannot defy me! I control you! I **own** you!"

Starscream's lips curled into a smile. "No. You **don't** own me. **Not anymore.** "

Then, at some unspoken signal, all nine Seekers hovering in the air lifted their arm weapons and fired.

Megatron's helm exploded in a shower of energon and metal fragments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I have finished the draft of this story!! 🥳
> 
> Yes, that's right! The story is finished, and all I have left to do is the editing! I think I will maintain the once-a-week posting schedule since that seems to work for most folks. Plus, these upcoming chapters are fairly long and I want to make sure I give you a chance to read one before posting another. 
> 
> I can't wait to share the ending with you! 💗


	69. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Autobots, the Decepticons, and Bluestreak's trine all look ahead to what comes next.

"Well," Smokescreen said, drawing the single word out until its sound became a contented hum. "If I knew that the two of you would welcome me back like this when I got sent on a dangerous mission, I would have asked to be sent on a lot more of them."

"You can't just ask to be sent on a dangerous mission. It doesn't work like that." Prowl's helm was resting on Smokescreen's shoulder, his fingers trailing gently over the contours of Smokescreen's hood and bumper. "Missions must have a clearly delineated goal, and a plan. There needs to be a reason for a risky mission to be approved, and until very recently there was no such reason." His icy blue optics, lit with a softly satisfied glow, flicked up to meet Smokescreen's. "I would never have approved such a thing."

Smokescreen laughed. "Then I'm sure I could have talked Jazz into concocting some reason that sounded plausible, especially if I told him what would be waiting for me when I got home again."

Bluestreak's helm was propped up on his hand so he could look down at his bond mates. "You know, any time you want this, all you ever have to do is ask," Bluestreak said, winding the fingers of his other hand through Smokescreen's. He smiled at the ripple of amusement and arousal still burbling through the bond and added, "I don't mind showering you with attention whenever you want it."

Smokescreen's optics brightened. "Whenever I want it? Careful what you're promising there, beautiful," he said. He lifted his hand to his lips to kiss the back of Bluestreak's fingers. "Besides, this time there was a bit of excited zeal that I don't think you could replicate. It isn't always that I'm able to help end a century-long war."

"That's true," Prowl murmured. His fingers stopped moving, coming to rest on Smokescreen's chest, just over his spark. "Stealing the control module for the cybermatter weapon is the thing that finally pushed Megatron to show up at our doorstep... And let us see that the war might end soon."

To Bluestreak, the war felt like it had been going on forever.

From the first shots fired in the Senate chambers to the moment Megatron was killed by the very Seekers he'd used to terrorize Cybertron, the war had taken a bit over a Cybertronian century. To a Cybertronian, that was about the same amount of time that it would take to firmly establish a specialization and a career, enough time to find a mate or two and really settle into a life – hardly any time at all, really. But to Bluestreak, it also felt as though a millennia had passed since that last morning when he, Barricade and Prowl were all curled together into one berth, on that morning that everything had fallen apart.

As sudden as the shock was of watching Barricade fire a blaster into that mech's helm on the holovid, so long ago, seeing the Seekers vaporize Megatron's helm felt like the same sort of shock. Only this time, instead of horror and grief at what had happened, Bluestreak felt hope and anticipation about what was to come next.

The end to the hostilities didn't come as easily as killing a single mech, of course. After Megatron's helmless frame had collapsed to the snowy ground, Starscream soared higher, his distinctive voice carrying over the entire battlefield. Starscream called out to the Decepticons to lock their weapons and stand down, declaring that he was free of the code that had corrupted his processor and spark, and pointing at the dead body of the warlord as proof.

But Starscream was immediately challenged. The captains of the two downed combiner teams, both of whom were already in Autobot shackles, tried to shout over Starscream, attempting to rouse the other Decepticons to resist the Air Commander's orders.

Curled up beside Smokescreen in their berth, Bluestreak put his helm on Smokescreen's shoulder, mirroring Prowl. "I was **sure** that I was going to get caught in the crossfire between the Seekers and the other Decepticons," Bluestreak said, remembering the sight of Seekers above him and Decepticons behind him aiming their weapons at each other. He let a bit of the fear he'd felt in that moment flash across the bond. When his trine mates reacted with comfort, wrapping him up with sensations of safety and sureness, he forced himself to relax again. "And I was so sure that the other 'Cons would be **happy** that we'd found a way to get rid of that code. I mean, who would want to live like that?" He blew a gust of air from his vents. "Who could have known that not all of them would be pleased to get out from under Megatron's treads?"

"Well, Barricade knew," Prowl said. It was his turn to lift his helm from Smokescreen's shoulder to look down at Bluestreak. "He couldn't tell us directly, of course, since he was still under the code's influence during his interviews with Jazz and Red Alert. But he was able to heavily imply that most of the combiner teams were truly loyal to Megatron, even without the coding forcing it on them. To them, the coding was an irritant at most."

"I guess it's a good thing we got the patch to the Seekers first, then," Bluestreak replied. He smiled at Prowl. "Barricade was right about that, too... That Starscream would hold up his end of the deal."

Prowl rolled his optics. "I still say there **was** no deal," he said, but his presence in Bluestreak's spark softened. "But I am glad that our priorities aligned with Starscream's, in any event... Enough to finally have him on our side for the final battle."

To go against Starscream also meant going against the rest of the Seekers.

There were several reasons why the Decepticons had been winning the war. Even from the beginning of the war, they had held the weapons manufacturing centers, and had a larger number of armament-ready mechs. The Cybertron First movement had also appealed to mechs who accepted violence as a means to an end, so it was easy to convince them to become an army. But the main reason the Decepticons prevailed over the Autobots again and again was because the air force of Vos had given Megatron a huge advantage. Seekers were formidable opponents, both in the air and on the ground. They were fast, deadly, and numerous. One of the first things that any Autobot soldier learned was that Seekers were not to be trifled with, and not to underestimate them.

Underestimating a Seeker could easily be the last bad decision you ever made.

The Decepticons knew that, too. So when the captains of Megatron's two captured combiner teams convinced a few other Decepticons to train their weapons on the Seekers hovering overhead, a few carefully targeted shots from those Seekers were enough to put down the nascent rebellion.

It turns out that a blaster aimed at your helm was a very effective bargaining tool, regardless of what side you are on... Or which side the mech wielding the blaster is on.

But not all of the Decepticons were so reluctant to put down their weapons. Bluestreak's mouth had dropped open in surprise when Soundwave went to stand directly under Starscream, visibly siding with the Air Commander, before holding out a hand to help the Prime climb back to his pedes. Bluestreak learned later (once the dust had settled and the icy mud on the battlefield had started to refreeze) that Soundwave, once one of Megatron's most loyal followers, had started to question the warlord's judgement. Before they left Cybertron, Megatron passed an edict that every single Decepticon assigned to come with him on the mission to follow the Autobots was required to have the loyalty microcode installed... And that included Soundwave's cassettes. Bluestreak knew how protective Blaster was of his own cassettes, so he could understand why Soundwave's trust in Megatron had been damaged.

And not all of the Decepticon combiners were blindly loyal to Megatron, either. The mechs who made up the third combiner, Devestator, were forcibly made to be loyal to Megatron, just like all of the other Decepticons. But, like Starscream, they hated what had been done to them, and had no interest in seeing another planet destroyed in Megatron's quest for dominance. "We joined Megatron and the Decepticons to make Cybertron a **better** place... Not to destroy it," Hook said after the battle, when the sun was low enough to be slanting sideways into the canyon that the _Ark_ was hidden in. Hook had already had the loyalty microcode removed from his systems, and was waiting for the rest of his team to be looked after by Hoist and Djsuro. Hook rubbed his chest, a frown on his lips as he glanced at Bluestreak, who'd been one of the Autobots assigned to guard duty to make sure none of the Decepticons queueing for the procedure outside the _Ark_ tried anything funny. "This wasn't what we'd signed on for."

Bluestreak remembered Skywarp telling him almost exactly the same thing, and how Barricade had expressed the same sentiment.

Smokescreen nuzzled Prowl's helm. "Before you were able to join us, Blue was telling me you're helping with the treaty," he said, and his pride in Prowl's work shone through the bond. "I'm not surprised the Prime tapped you for that. If there's anyone who can make sure the 'Cons aren't trying to pull a fast one, it's you."

Prowl's face flushed faintly in the dim light of their berth room. "I think General Ultra Magnus would do a much better job than I am able to at ensuring the Autobots receive a fair deal," he said, but Bluestreak could feel Prowl's gratification at Smokescreen's compliment. "But I'm doing my best."

"Don't sell yourself short, my light," Bluestreak said. He reached across Smokescreen's chest and brushed his fingers across Prowl's cheek. "You're the most detail-oriented mech I know. I think you'll do a great job."

Smiling, Prowl turned his helm into Bluestreak's touch. "Thank you," he said, then vented softly in frustration. "Although Soundwave is also very detail-oriented, and he has been able to make connections that I missed." Prowl's engine whined softly. "I'm just glad that the Prime and the other officers are also participating in the talks. I wouldn't feel comfortable if I was the only mech negotiating for our side."

By Prowl's account, the treaty negotiations were progressing steadily, but there were a few things that needed to be hammered out: most importantly, what would happen when they returned to Cybertron. First, both Starscream and Soundwave were adamant that Shockwave would not willingly give up command of Cybertron, especially if he was contacted by anyone other than Megatron. It was almost a given that when the combined forces arrived on Cybertron, they would face a fight for control of the planet.

But this time the Autobots would not be fighting alone.

Secondly, there was still a group of Decepticons who refused to allow the coding fix to be installed in their systems. They viewed the fix itself with suspicion, and rejected Starscream's claims to leadership of their faction. What didn't help was Starscream's insistence that every Decepticon have the fix installed whether they wanted it or not. His reasoning was sound, Prowl had explained: if they returned to Cybertron with Decepticons who still had active loyalty coding in their systems, Shockwave would be able to command them to do anything. They could not possibly remain free, simply to do Shockwave's bidding.

The Prime had tried negotiating for leniency for these stragglers, stating that every mech had the right to choose their own path. But as Starscream put it, if the resistant Decepticons did not comply and allow the fix to be installed, they had three choices: be detained in the brig, be placed in stasis lock, or be put down.

At this point, all eleven 'Cons who had refused the patch so far had chosen to stay in the brig, but Barricade was sure that Blast Off would come around soon.

Subduing Shockwave and freeing the rest of the willing Decepticons on Cybertron from the loyalty coding was only the first task that the joint forces would need to complete. After that, the forces would need to find a way to restart Cybertron's core.

Fortunately, Wheeljack and Perceptor had already been working on this idea ever since they'd seen the information that Starscream had provided to the Autobots via Barricade. They knew that the original goal was to use the generator to rejuvenate Cybertron's energon reserves and restart the core, but the Decepticons had been stymied by the lack of organic matter needed for the reaction. However, Earth was rich in organic matter, and Mixmaster and Perceptor were already working together to find a way to transport as much organic matter back to Cybertron as possible to act as a catalyst for the reaction.

The war was ending, and a way to rejuvenate their planet was being developed. Bluestreak let a quiver of excitement wash through his lines. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Beside him, Smokescreen stretched, the cables running under his plating groaning slightly with the effort. "Speaking of mechs on our side," he said, turning his helm to look at Bluestreak. "How is Barricade?"

Bluestreak could not suppress the swell of happiness in his spark when he thought of the dark mech with the scarlet optics. "He's fine. Better than fine! You know he's free of the code, of course," he said. When Smokescreen nodded, Bluestreak snuggled into Smokescreen's shoulder. "Even after the battle was over, he refused to leave Djsuro's side." Bluestreak stared at a small scratch on the plating of Smokescreen's upper arm, smoothing his finger over it as if he could buff the defect away. "Cade said he owes Djsuro a debt of gratitude. Cade told him he could ask for anything he wanted, and he'd do it. "

A curl of surprise and curiosity twined through the bond from Smokescreen. "Really? Any idea what kind of repayment Djsuro will ask for?"

"No," Bluestreak said. He smiled as he remembered the flustered chittering the Povian made when Barricade told him of his intention to make good on his promise. "But he said he'd give it some thought, and promised to let Cade know what he decides."

Smokescreen made a thoughtful noise, then said, "He's not the only one." When Bluestreak lifted his helm to look at him directly, Smokescreen smiled. "We need to talk about Barricade, too."

"What about him?" Bluestreak asked, disquiet flickering through him into the bond before he could stop it. "And... Do we have to do it now?" Everything was so peaceful: the war was cycling down to a close, Smokescreen was back home safe, and the three of them were together, legs and hands and sparks woven together.

"Well, maybe not this second, but soon," Smokescreen said. He tipped his helm forward to chime his chevron against Bluestreak's gently. "Now that there's a treaty in the works, and that coding has been removed from his systems, we should talk about how he's going to fit into what we have here." He turned and smiled at Prowl, who was staring at Smokescreen with a small frown on his face. "You both promised me that we'd start talking about these things. So... I want to make sure we do that, just so we're all driving in the same direction."

The swirl of uncertainty Bluestreak was feeling from Prowl grew for a moment. Then, with an almost tangible quality, it cleared into resolve. "Yes," Prowl said. He looked at Bluestreak, flicking one wing upwards as he nodded firmly. "We **should** talk about it. Just so there are no misunderstandings about what everyone wants or expects."

"Really?" Bluestreak bit his lower lip as both of his bond mates nodded at him. "But what if... What if we're not all in agreement about what should happen next?" He managed to suppress the flare of anxious dread before it could burst into the bond, but some of his apprehension still leaked through. "Everything's come together so fast. Cade's cured and the war's practically over, but I haven't had a chance to think about exactly what I want things to look like. What if what I want doesn't fit with what you two expect? What if none of us can agree on how things should go? What if-"

"Blue." Smokescreen silenced Bluestreak with a soft kiss. "We'll talk it through. I know you have a hard time asking for what you want." He lifted a hand and rubbed a small circle on Bluestreak's chest armor over his spark. "Prowl and I can help you with that. We can all help each other. And together I'm sure we'll find some road forward that we can all be happy with."

"Really?" Bluestreak repeated, still trying to imagine how Barricade could fit into what he had here, on this berth, with his trine.

"Really," Prowl said. He reached across Smokescreen's chest and took Bluestreak's hand. Then, as a bright sparkle of amusement flickered across the bond, he said, "If the Prime and Starscream can work out a peaceful resolution for both sides, I'm sure we can figure out how to work Barricade into our lives." His tiny smile grew a bit. "And besides... He **was** right about Starscream helping us end the war."

Bluestreak felt his wings tremble behind him as he tried and failed to find words to describe how he was feeling. So, instead, he lurched forward and pulled Prowl into a deep kiss as Smokescreen laughed and held them both close.

* * *

"Careful, now," Bluestreak said, pausing to let Barricade get his balance again. "You remember what Ratchet said. It'll take a little while for your gyros to adjust."

"Yeah, I know." Barricade hung onto Bluestreak's arm for another moment before loosening his grip and standing up straight again. "But it's been three days," he grumbled, shaking out his wings. "I didn't think getting used to my new legs was going to take this long."

Bluestreak held onto Barricade's hand, afraid that Barricade was going to try walking at the same pace he had been just before he'd started listing to the left. "It just takes some time," Bluestreak said.

"I know, I know. Give it time, everyone keeps telling me." When they started walking again, Barricade moved at a much slower pace than he had been just a minute before. "I guess I'll just have to be a slow poke for a while longer."

Bluestreak hummed sympathetically. "When I lost my legs it was almost a month before I felt like I was back to normal," Bluestreak said. "The tech in Rodion explained it to me. Even if the replacement parts are identical to your frame specs, your protoform makes tiny adjustments and changes to your frame over time. Your systems get used to your configuration, and changing it throws everything off." He stopped while Barricade wobbled on his new pedes again. "Did you need to rest?"

"No, I'll be fine." Barricade paused another moment before starting to walk once more, this time leaning on Bluestreak's arm. "Ratchet said I should be walking at least an hour each day anyway, and I just know that he's going to ask for logs or something. So I might as well follow his instructions. I don't want to delay being able to transform any longer than necessary." Then he lifted his helm and looked at the hallway around them as if noticing it for the first time. "Where are we going, anyway? You said you had something to show me?"

Winding his fingers through Barricade's, Bluestreak nodded, trying and failing to quell the nervousness in his spark. "I do. And we're here," he said, stopping in front of a door and sending a quick ping to his trine mates.

As Bluestreak keyed the door open, Barricade's wings tipped upwards. "Isn't this... Isn't this your trine's quarters?" Barricade asked, hesitating as the door opened.

"It is, indeed, our quarters," said Smokescreen, who was standing on the other side of the door. He stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. "And come on in. We have something we want to discuss with you."

Barricade looked into the quarters with wide optics when he saw Prowl standing in the middle of the room. Bluestreak thought that Barricade might have stood there forever if he hadn't tugged on his hand, encouraging the dark mech to step inside. "Hey," Barricade said, his wings flicking up and down. He glanced between Prowl and Smokescreen. "It's, uh, a nice place the three of you've got here," he said, then groaned quietly, flashing a self-effacing grin. "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound so lame..."

Prowl was standing beside the couch, his back straight and his wings held out formally. "It's all right, Barricade," Prowl said, and indicated the couch. "And thank you. Please. Sit down. As Smokescreen said, we would all like to discuss something with you."

After Bluestreak helped Barricade walk to the couch and sit down, Barricade looked up at him. His wings had continued to flick up and down, betraying the nervousness that was also evident in the way he gripped Bluestreak's hand. "So, uh, what's going on here?" he asked Bluestreak, then glanced at Prowl and Smokescreen again. "This feels a little like an intervention or something. I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

Smokescreen smiled, coming to stand at Bluestreak's shoulder. "No, you haven't done anything wrong... Not recently, anyway," he said. "Bluestreak will be speaking first."

Bluestreak waited until Prowl came to stand at his other shoulder, and he touched each of them through the bond, sending them gratitude and love. He must have also been broadcasting his nervousness, though, because both of his bond mates sent him encouragement and reassurance in response. Leaning into their strength, Bluestreak looked down at Barricade, who was staring up at him with wide optics.

"Cade... I've told you how much I missed you, and how much I still love you," Bluestreak said. "I know you've done things that you're not proud of... terrible things, but... I also know that you're not a bad mech. I remember what you were really like, in here." Bluestreak touched his own chest, just over his spark. "I remember who you were when I fell in love with you before the war. And I've seen who you are now, and... You're the same mech I fell in love with."

Barricade's jaw tightened, making the scar on his face flex with the motion. "Not quite the same," Barricade said, lifting a hand to extend his talons. Then he dropped his hand back to his lap and looked up at Bluestreak as if searching his face. "But the one thing that hasn't changed is how much I love you, too, Blue."

Bluestreak felt his door wings flutter behind him, and his spark gave a little wobble of nervousness and excitement. Then he felt a gentle nudge from Smokescreen. He glanced behind him to see Smokescreen smiling at him, broadcasting nothing but confidence in him. "Go on," Smokescreen murmured.

Bluestreak looked over his other shoulder. Prowl gave him a nod, and sent him a burst of support, layered through with devotion.

Before his qualms could take over his processor again, Bluestreak reached into his subspace and pulled out the tiny box that he'd been carrying for a few days, waiting until everything was ready. He knelt in front of Barricade, opening the box and pulling out a simple braided steel ring, fashioned from a fencing material common on Earth. "I remember how neither of us ever got around to proposing in a traditional fashion. You just kinda asked out of the blue, and I slipped to Prowl that we were thinking of proposing. And that was fine and everything! The most important thing each time was that the question got asked. But when Smokey proposed to me and Prowl I realized how much I loved the ritual. And yeah, this isn't really going to be **that** traditional, what with everything that's happened and all, but I wanted you to feel the same way I did when Smokey-"

"Blue." Smokescreen put a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, stopping his babbling mid-stream. Bluestreak glanced up at his bond mate, who smiled down at him again, his sapphire optics sparkling and his spark singing with amusement. "Just ask."

"Right." Bluestreak pulled a vent and looked back at Barricade. The dark mech's wings were flat against his back, and his scarlet optics were wide. "Barricade of Praxus, please allow me to make your life and your spark as whole as I can... Again." He put the ring in the palm of his hand, holding it up to Barricade as an offering. "Will you do me the honour of rebonding with me, and re-establish the bond that we once had?"

Barricade's mouth hung open as he stared first at the ring, then at Bluestreak. "You..." His brow ridge furrowed slightly, then he snapped his mouth shut. "But..." He looked up at Prowl, his optics still wide. "Are you saying that..."

"I'm offering for you to rebond with **me** ," Bluestreak said firmly, drawing Barricade's gaze back to him. His nervousness spiked again, knowing this was where his plans might crumble before him. He glanced at Prowl out of his corner of his optic. "This is an offer to be in an uneven bond, with only me."

"You're pretty good at Praxus Hold 'Em," Smokescreen said with a smile. "But you're not the kind of mech I generally go for."

"And I can't let you into my spark. Not again." Prowl's words were echoed through the bond with a ripple of grief, but his voice remained steady. Bluestreak knew Prowl had rehearsed these words several times to ensure he could say his part without static distorting his message. "Maybe not ever." Prowl rested his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, giving it a tiny squeeze. "I trust you now more than I did before, but... I can't rebond with you." Prowl vented quietly, and Bluestreak could feel the tension leaving his frame and his mind now that he'd said his piece. Then, the wash of love from Prowl cleared, undiluted by other emotions. "However, I know how much Bluestreak loves you, and I will not stand in Bluestreak's way of repairing his own spark."

Barricade blinked several times, his optics going slightly pale. But he nodded at Prowl's words. "I understand," Barricade said, and looked down at the ring in Bluestreak's palm. "But this is more than I'd ever hoped for, after everything..." Feedback mangled the last few words of his sentence. He shook his helm as if to clear it and reached out to take the ring. When he spoke again, his roughened voice was strong and firm. "Bluestreak of Praxus, I will rebond with you, to make our lives and our sparks whole again." He went to place the ring on his right thumb, but then hesitated. "...which thumb should I use?" he asked, looking at Bluestreak again, his door wings flicking up and down.

Bluestreak laughed and threw himself into Barricade's arms, kissing him firmly. "That doesn't matter," Bluestreak said when they separated. "It doesn't matter, and we'll figure this out as we go."

"To a point," Prowl said, holding up a finger. His wings were spread wide, drawing everyone's attention to him. He pulled a data pad out of his subspace and held it out to Barricade. "The three of us would like to formalize an agreement for how this will work, in order to minimize misunderstandings."

Barricade took the data pad and flicked it on, tabbing through it quickly. "What is this? A contract?"

"It's an agreement," Bluestreak said. He was still on his knees, his arms wrapped around Barricade's waist. His spark was still singing with joy at the knowledge that it would be reunited with its missing part soon. "It's all of the things that the three of us have agreed to verbally, but we decided that if I'm adding you into the mix, having everything spelled out in writing would be a good idea."

Barricade smiled down at Bluestreak, lowering the data pad to his side. "You've already made me so happy, I'll agree to just about anything."

Smokescreen stepped forward to crouch beside Barricade. He tapped the data pad that Barricade still held. "No, you won't. That's the whole point of an agreement." When Barricade looked at him in surprise, Smokescreen smiled and tipped his wings upwards. "We want to make sure we are all in agreement to how we move forward, together."

"Take some time to read over it," Prowl said. "If there is anything that isn't clear, or that you don't agree with, we can discuss it."

There was a glint in Barricade's optics that Bluestreak remembered from their university days, of Barricade trying to find a loophole in some rule. "What if I don't agree with any of it?" He glanced at Bluestreak, and his wings dipped. "Will... Will this be off?"

"No. Anything can be renegotiated," Prowl said calmly. The deep emotions he'd been feeling a few minutes previously had faded, and he seemed to be back on even ground. "The only stipulation is that we all agree to any changes."

Bluestreak sat up, pulling his arms free of Barricade's waist. "It's not like a set of rules. They're more like guidelines on how to treat each other, things to think about before acting, how to bring up and handle things that are bothering you, things like that." He rested his hands on Barricade's knees, leaning forward as if he could project his hopefulness and sincerity into his ex-bond mate (his bond mate-to-be). "I think it's a really good idea."

"There **is** one rule, though," Prowl said. "Regular discussions, with all four of us together. Even though we will not be bonded to you, we will all have a common link through Bluestreak. What any of us does **could** affect all of us. So we thought it would make sense that we talk things through on a regular basis, just to make sure things are not festering, as Smokescreen put it."

"The meetings were Smokescreen's idea, after he got tired of me and Prowl not talking about things that were bothering us," Bluestreak said with a smile. Then he flicked his wings nervously and added, "And to make sure that no one makes any life-altering decisions without letting everyone know about it first."

Barricade's wings fell even further until they rested against the surface of the couch. "You mean like helping start a war," he muttered.

"Yeah," Bluestreak replied, just as quietly.

Still crouched beside Barricade, Smokescreen tapped the data pad again. "I don't think I need to tell you how much Bluestreak means to me and to Prowl." Then he gave Bluestreak an indulgent smile. "It's obvious that Bluestreak loves you, dearly, and can't wait to be rebonded to you. I believe that you feel the same way about him." Looking up at Barricade, Smokescreen added, "That agreement is for **all** of our sakes: to help protect the bonds between our sparks, either direct or indirect. It's a statement that says we're all in this together, and that we'll look out for one another, always." Bluestreak could feel Smokescreen's suave confidence swirling through the bond. "Give it a read. Think it over. Let us all know if there's anything you'd like to discuss or change. And then..." He reached out and took Bluestreak's hand in one of his, and folded Barricade's hand around it. "Then you and Bluestreak can fix those holes you've both had in your sparks for all these years."

Bluestreak clenched his jaw as he felt it try to quiver, and he blinked the coolant from his optics. He looked up to see Barricade looking down at him, his optics overly bright.

Barricade nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "I'd like that."


	70. Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing piece of Bluestreak's spark is finally healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood music for this chapter: [Komorebi, Pt. 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0nd2u7iSPo) and [Gris, Pt. 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InQk79Ll9u4) by Berlinist, both from the Gris soundtrack.

The fifth time Bluestreak was bonded, he decided to just give up trying to figure out how far the ceremony departed from tradition.

After all they'd been through and all that had changed in everyone's lives, Bluestreak didn't even know how to go about answering the question. What **was** tradition anymore, aside from old rituals that represented lives they no longer led?

There had been a lot of discussion about whether they should commemorate the re-establishment of the bond between Bluestreak and Barricade, or whether it should be performed as the strictly medical procedure that it actually was. There were no new bonds to be formed, and re-establishing a bond could be a tricky process when all of the existing bonds had to be severed before the old ones could be renewed.

But this act of bonding was also special, as the Prime himself had pointed out. It represented the healing that the Prime and Starscream both hoped might begin between the two factions, paving a way forward for all Cybertronians. "But I don't want you to feel pressured into doing anything that all of you are not comfortable with," the Prime told Barricade, Bluestreak, and his bond mates. "If you do not want that sort of attention on this re-established bond and what it means for all of you, then I will not force you into recognizing it in any ritualized manner."

The four of them had talked it over, per their newly accepted agreement, and decided that a small ceremony would be appropriate. "After all," Smokescreen had said. "Almost everyone is hoping this treaty between the Autobots and the Decepticons will hold once we return to Cybertron. We can do our part to help that along by showing that the four of us are able to make things work, even with everything that's happened."

Bluestreak had watched Prowl and Barricade trade glances with each other. Bluestreak couldn't sense anything from Barricade (not yet!) but the set of his wings showed his nervousness. Across the bond, Prowl felt much the same, although he was willing to do whatever he could to strengthen the treaty.

But none of them felt comfortable with a large ceremony, especially considering that the act of re-establishing the bond between Bluestreak and Barricade meant breaking all of their bonds first. Their bonds would only be severed for a minute or two, just long enough for them all to be reconnected with Barricade added to Bluestreak's spark, but the thought of being forced to undergo something so painful with a large audience was out of the question.

So the small ceremony was held in the medical bay aboard the Decepticon cruiser, the _Nemesis_. This was another act of trust: the Autobots showed they trusted the Decepticons enough to have the Prime, their chief medical officer, and a few other crew members take a ground bridge from the _Ark_ directly to the Decepticon cruiser. Meanwhile, the Decepticons showed their trust by permitting this, and by allowing the use of their medical facilities. The _Ark's_ medical bay was still in chaos, struggling with all casualties sustained in the final battle between the factions, and the damage to the _Ark_ that the Autobots were still repairing.

But being aboard the Decepticon ship didn't stop Ratchet from insisting on being involved in the procedure. "While I appreciate the use of your facilities," the doctor said to Hook, "three of these mechs are still Autobots, and have been under my care for a long time."

"I may be a Decepticon, but I'm still a doctor," Hook said, rolling a spark monitor up to the two berths that had been pulled together for the Praxians to sit on. He rounded on Ratchet, who was double-checking some of the equipment standing ready. "What do you think I'm going to do, just let someone gutter and fade in my medical bay during a low-risk, routine procedure?"

"I'd call it medium-risk, at the very least," Ratchet retorted. "It's a broken trine, with bonds being re-established into an uneven configuration. This might have been routine back before the war, but I doubt you've done even one of these since the Iacon Medical Centre got bombed at the start of the war."

"How would you know what I have and haven't done?" Hook snarled back. "You-"

"Oh, stop bickering already and get on with it," Starscream snapped. He stood beside the Prime, his wings held out to proudly display the new insignia painted on them beside the Decepticon mark. Barricade had told Bluestreak that the new insignia was one of a Vosian Winglord, a title that Starscream had been working towards before joining Cybertron First. "We have too much to do right now for you two to waste our time with pointless arguments."

The Prime audibly reset his vocalizer with a loud click. "I'm sure both of our doctors simply want to make sure that nothing goes wrong," he said diplomatically.

Hook harrumphed, pointedly turning his back on Ratchet and continuing his work without even a flicker of his visor. "I think we're ready here... Unless Doctor Ratchet wants to double check my work?" he asked.

Ratchet's arms were crossed over his windshield. "No need," he said, matching Hook's waspish tone. "I watched everything, and it all looks good to go, Doctor Hook."

Sitting across from Bluestreak, Prowl lowered his helm. If Bluestreak hadn't been connected to him, he wouldn't have known that Prowl was struggling to suppress a smile at Ratchet's cantankerous sniping.

The Prime nodded. "All right, then. Let's begin." He lifted his hands, spreading them out to encompass all four Praxians, seated in front of him on the medical berths. "When we came to this planet, we did so with the intention of finding a place to start over... A place to regroup. A place to plan our next steps. We had no idea that in one of this planet's years, we would have found the means to bring this war to an end." He lowered his hands and added, "Just as I hope the treaty we are drafting will bring a new era to Cybertron and all who call it home, I hope that repairing this bond between two mechs whose sparks were torn apart because of the war will bring peace to both of them."

Barricade threaded his fingers through Bluestreak's, holding his hand tightly. His optics were downcast, but his door wings were held high, trembling slightly in anticipation.

Bluestreak couldn't sense how Barricade was feeling (yet!) but he thought he felt the same: excited, nervous, impatient.

From Prowl, Bluestreak sensed a very faint echo of apprehension, but it was mostly drowned out by love. And from Smokescreen, Bluestreak could feel anticipation and an eagerness to move on. It was only when Bluestreak pushed deep into Smokescreen's spark that he felt a faint touch of sadness. But as soon as he felt it, the sadness was smothered over with devotion. When Bluestreak looked up, he saw Smokescreen smiling at him as he sent him a nudge of affection.

When the Prime finished speaking, there was a pause. Then Starscream muttered, "I shouldn't have let you go first." He flicked out his wings with a rattle and raised his voice. "I know that this isn't a proper trining ceremony, but in light of this occasion I believe that a traditional Vosian blessing is appropriate."

As Starscream walked behind Bluestreak and Barricade and put his hands on their shoulders, Bluestreak suppressed the shudder that rose up his spinal strut. It had only been a few weeks since the last battle at the _Ark_ , but the lessons of a century of war did not get unlearned so quickly. Bluestreak had managed to push down the anxiety about being in a room with several Seekers (as Starscream's trine hovered at the room's edge, ostensibly to be witnesses, but probably also to act as guards). But having a Seeker standing behind him was just on the verge of being too much for him to handle.

Then his trine was there in his spark, surrounding him with their support. He looked across at them, and they smiled back. Prowl sent Bluestreak a quick ping. _We can see Starscream. We won't let him do anything to you, love._

Bluestreak smiled and nodded, sending back a glyph of thanks.

With the emotional encouragement of his bond mates, Bluestreak was able to keep himself from flinching when Starscream put his hand on his shoulder. Bluestreak focused on the warmth of Barricade's hand in his.

"May your trine mates always be at your wing tips, through clear skies and through dust storms. May the winds always be in your favour, and bear you safely to your destination. May Primus guide your trine through good times and bad, so that you may always fly high together." Starscream stopped for a moment, and then added, "Or whatever the equivalent would be for a grounder, I suppose."

"That works, Air Commander," Barricade said, turning his helm to look up at Starscream. He glanced at Bluestreak and smiled. "We may not use them for flying, but I've missed having Bluestreak at my wing tip."

Starscream snorted, but his reply was even. "You are welcome," he said, and turned to stand beside the Prime again.

"Thank you, Starscream," the Prime said. "Now, does anyone have anything they wanted to say?"

They had all brought witnesses with them to help solemnify the bonding in the custom of Praxus. With no family members available for any of them, they had each chosen a friend to stand with them as a witness.

Standing behind Prowl, Ironhide clapped his friend on the shoulder. "It's a good thing you're all doin' here," he said. "Gives me hope for the future."

Prowl turned his helm to smile at his friend. "Thank you, Ironhide."

Jazz patted Smokescreen on his shoulder. "Me and Smokey have worked together a lot over the years," he said. "And gettin' bonded to Prowl and Blue was the happiest I've ever seen him. Hopefully this little addition don't upset that cart at all."

"I don't think it will," Smokescreen said, his tone and his part of the bond filled with complete confidence. "We've talked it all over, through and through." He smiled at Prowl, then across at Bluestreak and Barricade. "This something we all want."

Barricade's hand tightened around Bluestreak's.

"Three bond mates! Are you sure you're going to be able to keep up with them all, Flutters?" Sideswipe asked, giving Bluestreak's shoulder a little shake.

Bluestreak laughed. "I may have my work cut out for me," he said. "But I think I can handle it."

Then, because he was unable to reach Barricade's shoulder, Djsuro put his tiny hand on Barricade's knee. "Ah, those were such beautiful words, Air Commander," he said, giving a bow in Starscream's direction before looking up at Barricade. "I am honoured to be a witness to this joining, and I offer a traditional Povian blessing for you". He chirped a few phrases in Povian, then translated them into Cybertronian. "May your matings be frequent, and may they also be fruitful." He paused as Sideswipe failed to suppress a snicker. Then Djsuro's ears went back slightly before he trilled a tiny, self-conscious laugh. "It sounds less coarse in Povian! My apologies."

"It's all right, Djsuro," Barricade said, grinning down at the coding specialist. "And thanks. The spark of what you meant to say came through."

"Now, if the four of you are ready?" the Prime asked. Bluestreak nodded eagerly, even though he could feel Prowl and Smokescreen bracing themselves for what came next.

"We are, sir," Prowl said.

The Prime turned to the doctors. "Ratchet, Hook, you may proceed."

Hook stepped forward, a device in his hand. He waved Sideswipe away, gesturing at a spot over by the Prime and Starscream. "Everyone not getting rebonded needs to stand over there." Once the witnesses started to move, Hook looked at Bluestreak. "You're first, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," Bluestreak said without hesitation, and tipped his helm to the side, exposing the medical port in his neck.

As Hook started connecting his device into Bluestreak's port, Bluestreak closed his optics, focusing on the bond with a sudden surge of trepidation. He reached out to his bond mates, slipping his presence into and around theirs, submersing himself in everything they were to him, and what he was to them. In turn, they wrapped themselves around him, broadcasting love and devotion.

Barricade's hand tightened around his again.

"All right. On the count of three," Hook said. "One... Two..."

Then, suddenly, horribly, **expectedly**... Bluestreak was completely and utterly alone.

It was as if the intervening century had not happened. Suddenly, Bluestreak was back in the Iacon Medical Centre, coming out of stasis and finding his spark empty and his very existence alone.

It was agony. Parts of his self, parts of his whole, were gone, completely ripped away from him. Before, he had grown used to that empty place in his spark where Barricade used to be, but this was more. It felt as though half of his spark had gone dark, or that half of him had gone dead and lifeless. On pure instinct he reached for his bond mates, which led him to blunder right into those gaping holes, amplifying the pain.

He gasped, and tried not to move or think or feel, and found that to be impossible.

He felt an arm around him, someone speaking to him. Through the agony, Bluestreak tried to listen to what was being said. "...right here. I'm right here, we'll be together soon, it's almost over. Prowl's done. They're doing Smokescreen next, and then we can all trade cables. We're almost there, just hang in there."

Barricade. Bluestreak clung to Barricade's hand and his words like a lifeline.

Through the pain, Bluestreak heard something else. There was an engine coughing and sputtering, and a keening sound. Was that sound coming from him? He wouldn't have been surprised: the pain was intense, and he realized that the bereft feeling in his spark was making him shudder, his shoulders shaking and wings clattering against his back.

But no – Bluestreak silenced his vocalizer and found that the sound continued.

"He was part of another trine, before. That's why he needed to go last." Bluestreak recognized Prowl's voice, strained and tense. Bluestreak lifted his helm to see Hook just finishing disconnecting his device from Smokescreen's medical port. Smokescreen had his face in his hands, shaking even worse than Bluestreak was, and his colour looked off. "Please hurry," Prowl said, his arms around Smokescreen as he held him tight, even as his own dentae were clenched tightly in a grimace of agony.

"We're ready. Let's get you all networked." Another voice broke through Bluestreak's pain, and he felt someone opening the data cable housing in his arm. He turned his helm (which felt like a tremendous effort) to see Ratchet pulling his data cables free, and slotting other ones into his medical port. The doctor crouched down and peered into Bluestreak's face. "We're using a hub for your trine, and Barricade's going to be connected to you directly. As soon as you feel a connection, go ahead and run the bonding sequence."

Bonding sequence. Right. That is why they were here. That was the reason for the agony. Bonding. Bluestreak nodded dully as his internal systems began pinging the network, seeking a connection, failing, pinging the network, seeking a connection, failing, pinging the network, desperately looking for a connection to fill the void he had suddenly been dropped into, and failing.

"Almost there, Blue." Barricade's voice in Bluestreak's audial was soft and filled with encouragement. "They're hooking us all in. Smokey's in. Hang in there. Prowl's in. Just another second, almost there..."

Then, like sunlight breaking through clouds, there were other presences on the network. Some of them were confused, some were determined, but all of them were in pain to varying degrees.

Bluestreak launched his bonding sequence, and before it could even propagate through the network he received three requests. He frantically approved each request, issuing authorization as soon as each appeared on his HUD, one after the other after the other, and then-

Then his spark was full... And **whole**.

First was a loving presence, still tinged with a spark-deep sorrow that it had accepted with grace and pragmatism. It was caring and thoughtful, just like the Smokescreen that Bluestreak had grown to know and love with all his spark.

The next presence was loyal, almost to a fault, but willing to bend and compromise when the situation called for it. It was determined and attentive, with a cautious prudence that Bluestreak had seen Prowl develop over the years.

And finally there was a presence that seemed almost like a stranger. It was hopeful, but frightened. It was tentative, almost shy in the first few milliseconds of their connection, as if it was expecting to be rejected and expelled. But then Bluestreak felt the presence slowly bloom into a softer, less impetuous version of Barricade than the one he remembered...

But it was still undeniably **Barricade**.

Where for years Bluestreak had lived with a hole in his spark that nothing could fill, and for a few minutes he'd had two more holes ripped into his very soul, now **all** of those holes were healed. His spark was finally whole.

He was whole.

Bluestreak realized his arms were around Barricade, and Barricade's face was buried in his collar fairing. "Blue, Blue, my Blue," Barricade was murmuring, over and over, like a litany from a cleric in the Praxian Citadel. "Blue, my Blue, my beautiful Blue." He felt Barricade's presence twining itself with his, joy and elation, euphoric in recognition of Bluestreak and regretful in remembrance of past wrongs. When Bluestreak immediately responded with affirmation of his forgiveness, the rumble of Barricade's engine and the burst of surprise in his spark was almost enough to drown out the other voices in the room and the waves of grief over the bond.

Almost.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Bluestreak leaned forward, reaching towards Smokescreen and grabbing his knee, even as Barricade still clung to him. "Smokey, are you all right?" he said, sending his awareness into the bond, seeking to soothe the eddies of pain and sorrow that were already beginning to abate.

Smokescreen nodded, leaning into Prowl's arms. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice tinged with feedback at the edges. After a moment, Smokescreen looked up at Bluestreak, and laid his hand on top of Bluestreak's. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He pulled a long vent cycle, and with every passing moment he looked better, and his presence in the bond was more steady. "That was just..." He pressed a hand to his chest, his optics dimming slightly. "I expected it to hurt, but not **that** bad."

Hook was standing behind Smokescreen fussing with one of the spark monitors. Then he made a satisfied sound. "There was a slight irregularity in your spark spin, but it looks like it's recovered now. That's not uncommon when the spark's put under strain. Take it easy for a few days and you should be just fine." Hook looked up to see Ratchet peering at the monitor, and huffed. "Are you going to second-guess my diagnoses, Doctor?"

"What? Oh. No." Ratchet shook his helm and looked up, gesturing at the device. "The palpitation in Smokescreen's spark was so slight, I'm surprised your equipment even picked it up," he said. "I know ours certainly wouldn't have. I haven't seen equipment this sensitive since before the war." He peered closer at the display. "How much of a delta can this monitor detect?"

Hook crossed his arms. "It can detect a variation of five rotations per microclick. That's four times more sensitive than what came standards on the stock equipment." He tipped his helm to the side and looked at Ratchet shrewdly. "I modified it myself. Would you like to see?"

"Yes, but..." Ratchet glanced at the Praxians. "In a moment." Ratchet pulled himself away from the spark monitor with an obvious effort, and crouched down beside Smokescreen, pulling out a data cable. "It's not that I don't trust the Decepticon equipment," Ratchet said loudly with a glance at Hook. Then he smiled at Smokescreen. "But I just want to compare your current readings with what I have as a baseline for you." As he slotted his cable into Smokescreen's medical port, he nodded. "Did you want a pain patch before we head back to the _Ark_?"

Smokescreen shook his helm. "No. In all honesty I feel almost back to normal now." Over the bond, Bluestreak could sense that Smokescreen was telling the truth. The memory of pain that Smokescreen had carried with him into the re-establishment of the bond was almost all that was left. All that remained were two somewhat more defined outlines of the missing parts of Smokescreen's spark. Smokescreen rubbed at his chest again, tipped his helm to the side to chime his chevron against Prowl's, then patted Bluestreak's hand on his knee. "I've got my two favourite mechs in the galaxy back with me again. That's all I really needed."

Prowl tightened his arms around Smokescreen, and looked at Bluestreak. Relief was the main emotion Prowl was broadcasting across their connection as he met Bluestreak's gaze. "I think we just want to go back home and let the bond resettle," Prowl said quietly.

Smokescreen nodded silently into Prowl's shoulder.

Barricade had been sitting quietly at Bluestreak's side this whole time. He was silent, but Bluestreak could sense him brimming with emotions. Bluestreak could **feel** him, his delight at being able to sense Bluestreak, his joy of having part of his spark healed, and his love. But Bluestreak could also feel his concern for Smokescreen, and a wary respect for the boundaries that Prowl had asked for in the agreement. He could tell that Barricade was reluctant to speak up, still not certain how his opinion would be taken by the trine.

Hmm. Things to work on, to be sure.

"Ready to head back to the _Ark_?" Bluestreak asked, accompanying his words with a stroke of affection over the renewed bond.

The emotion Bluestreak sent Barricade was immediately answered with a cascade of adoration that brought a smile to Bluestreak's lips. "Yeah," Barricade said. "Let's head back home."

The trip from the ground bridge station on the _Nemesis_ , which was stationed on the bottom of the planet's deepest ocean (no wonder the Autobots had such trouble locating it!) to the canyon where the badly-damaged _Ark_ still sat was instantaneous, of course. It took longer for them to drive from the Decepticons' medical bay to the ground bridge station than it did to cross the bridge's threshold. But when they emerged from the dark, humid cruiser into the sunlit and snowy canyon, Bluestreak's spark gave another flip of joy.

After losing Barricade, he'd dreamt so many times about finding him again, and re-establishing the bond with him. In his dreams it had never been like this, of course: with Bluestreak now with **three** sparks attached to his, with Barricade carrying an organic who he'd trusted to be his witness to their rebonding, and with the four of them returning to a partially crushed cruiser on an alien planet.

But somehow, it still felt like everything Bluestreak had ever dreamt of.

At the entrance to the _Ark_ , the four Praxians and their witnesses parted ways. The Prime, Ironhide, Jazz and Ratchet had stayed behind on the _Nemesis_ ; most of the officers were going to continue treaty talks with Starscream and his new council, while Ratchet wanted to take a closer look at the modifications Hook had done to some of his equipment.

Sideswipe swatted Bluestreak on the shoulder and gave him a saucy wink. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Sideswipe, but I'm fairly sure you'd do just about anything," Prowl said. He still had his arm slung around Smokescreen's waist, no longer to support the blue and red mech, but just to stay in physical contact with him as reassurance of his presence.

Sideswipe turned his grin on Prowl. "Well, I didn't want to limit his options, Cop Bot," Sideswipe said, and patted Prowl on the shoulder. "Have fun, all of you!" he called as he walked up the ramp into the _Ark_.

Meanwhile, Barricade was kneeling in front of Djsuro, his wings canted downwards. "Really, thank you for standing by me," Barricade said, and Bluestreak could sense the sincerity Barricade was pouring into his words. "You've done so much for me – for all of the Decepticons! – and it means a lot to me that you would be my witness for this." He held out his hand to Djsuro. "I honestly wouldn't be here without you."

Djsuro patted his tiny hand against Barricade's palm and trilled quietly. "Ah, you're embarrassing this old sack of fur!" Djsuro exclaimed, then laughed. "Just go and be happy with your mate there. You and I can discuss that debt you think you owe me later. For now, just go and love." Then Djsuro turned and scampered up the ramp, vanishing into the darkness of the Ark.

Without a word, the four Praxians slowly walked up the ramp themselves. Bluestreak walked with Barricade on his left and Prowl on his right, and Smokescreen was pressed into Prowl's right side. Bluestreak leaned against Prowl, his right hand holding one of Smokescreen's, while Barricade's arm was wrapped around Bluestreak's waist... Careful not to even accidentally brush Prowl's plating.

Yes, they definitely had things to work on. But... Later. They could work on them later.

When they reached the trine's quarters, all four of them paused. This was one of the things they'd talked out. It was a unanimous agreement that Bluestreak would spend that night in Barricade's quarters; even though with a re-established bond there was no compulsion driving them, Prowl and Smokescreen both understood that the two newly reunited bond mates would want to be close to one another.

But Bluestreak still hesitated, touching the bond again just as gently as he touched Smokescreen on the shoulder. "Smokey," Bluestreak asked, tasting the lingering sadness coming from Smokescreen. "Are you sure you're all right with this?" He smiled, sending reassurance to both Smokescreen and to Barricade, who was hovering behind him uncertainly. "I can stay if-"

Smokescreen took Bluestreak's hand and kissed his fingers before pressing Bluestreak's hand against his chest. "I'm **fine** ," Smokescreen said firmly. "Pulling apart our bonds like that, it... I knew it was going to amplify what I've been living with ever since Praxus fell." Smokescreen cycled his vents, pulling in calm as if it was a tangible thing. "I miss them, a lot, but nothing can fix that. And I've got you and Prowl now, and you don't understand how much that helps."

"I think I do," Prowl said, gently brushing past the space where Barricade used to be in his spark. Bluestreak braced himself for the shock of discomfort that always came with that touch. But this time, when Prowl touched the empty space in his spark, the pain was muted, more dull than it had been before. "You helped Blue and I heal, so I'm not surprised that we'd do the same for you."

Behind Bluestreak, Barricade's engine faltered slightly, and Bluestreak felt another cascade of uncertainty from the dark mech. "Look, if you'd rather have Blue stay with you tonight, just in case..."

Smokescreen laughed then, the bright, bubbling laugh that always made Bluestreak's spark twirl. "What's this now? I have to get Blue and Prowl to work on talking, but I have to get you to work on your listening skills?"

A frown flashed across Barricade's face. "I just **really** don't want to come between you... Any of you. I don't want to be the cause of a rift or-"

Smokescreen reached past Bluestreak and put his hand on Barricade's upper arm reassuringly. "There's no way you could come between us," Smokescreen said. He pressed Bluestreak's hand firmly against his chest, right over his spark, and patted it. "He's here, in my spark, and I'm in his. Nothing is closer than that." Smokescreen smiled at Bluestreak. "And I don't think I have to tell anyone that Blue here definitely has room for the three of us in his spark."

"Go on," Prowl said, leaning forward to kiss Bluestreak. "I can take care of Smokescreen tonight." He straightened up to look at Barricade. "We'll see both of you in the morning." Prowl tipped his wings upwards and smiled.

Bluestreak and Barricade walked in silence to the door of Barricade's quarters. But as soon as they were inside and Barricade had locked the door behind them, he turned and swept Bluestreak into his arms. "This still doesn't feel real," Barricade said, his words muffled as he spoke them into Bluestreak's shoulder.

"I know," Bluestreak said, letting his joy sparkle through their connection. "I was thinking the same thing."

"It's so strange," Barricade said, pulling back to look into Bluestreak's face. He brushed his hand down the side of Bluestreak's helm, then gently touched the bonding stripes on Bluestreak's right wing that represented Prowl. "I still have this space inside me that's empty. I know it's Prowl... I can feel an echo of him every time I touch it." Bluestreak felt another shock of discomfort, but muted just like the one he'd received from Prowl. "Only now... It's like the echo of him is stronger. It's like..." Barricade's face twisted, and Bluestreak could feel him thinking. "It's like... You remember those windstorms that used to crop up in Iacon during the storm season?" When Bluestreak nodded, Barricade continued. "Remember how, when the wind got really strong and gusted between the towers, it **almost** sounded like people singing? We talked about how if you listened hard enough you could almost make out the words of the song?" Barricade gently brushed against the space in his spark again, almost reverently. "That's what it's like. I can **almost** feel him. Or..." Barricade shrugged, a twist of regret filtering through the bond. "Or maybe it's just my imagination, feeling things just because I **want** to feel them."

Bluestreak kissed Barricade again, reveling in being able to feel the sensation of his lips against Barricade's and vice versa. He filled their connection with love. "I think we all have a lot to get used to," he said. "I'm sure that'll be one of them."

Barricade's melancholy lasted only for another moment before he smiled at Bluestreak. "But frag – it's so wonderful to feel you in my spark again, Blue," he said, pure joy radiating from him. "Let's get you to the berth!" He wrapped his arms around Bluestreak and lifted him a few centimeters from the floor before staggering and putting him back down again with a thud. "Ooof! Holy Primus, you got heavy!"

Bluestreak laughed. "Reinforced frame, remember?" he said. Then he held up a finger. "But before we do that, let me give you this." He pulled the toy tankformer from his subspace and presented it to Barricade. "Here. You wanted me to hang onto this until you got rid of the loyalty coding. Now that's gone, and we're back together..." He pressed it into Barricade's hands. "I want you to have it back."

A shuddering vent shook Barricade's shoulders as he looked down at the toy in his hands. "It looks brighter than I remember," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well, it was sort of dinged and scraped up after riding around with me into battle for the whole war," Bluestreak said. He ran the tip of a finger across a tiny gouge on the tankformer's roof. "I got Brawn to help me work the worst of the dents out, and Sunstreaker helped me repaint it. I think we did a pretty good job colour matching."

As Barricade looked at the toy, Bluestreak could feel the tapestry of complex emotions from the dark mech, only some of which were reflected in his wings and expression. But when he looked up at Bluestreak again, his gorgeous scarlet optics shone brightly. "Thank you, Blue, for... Thank you for **believing** in me, after all this time."

Bluestreak didn't need their bond to know that Barricade's words were completely and utterly sincere.


	71. Coming into Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Autobots prepare to leave Earth, Bluestreak and his bond mates take one more night to enjoy themselves.

"And that hand is ours," Bluestreak said, laying down his cards with a pleased waggle of his door wings. His freshly painted bonding stripes – three broad gold stripes running the length of each wing, signifying his three bond mates – flashed in the cozy lighting of his trine's quarters. "Another point for us!"

Smokescreen peered at the cards Bluestreak had just revealed, then vented and tossed his cards on the table. "Good job," he said, without a trace of negativity in his tone or in his spark. He smiled across the table at Barricade and added, "Don't worry. We'll get them on the next hand. I've got a good feeling."

As Bluestreak gathered up the cards, Prowl frowned slightly, a hint of worry tinting the connection between them. "I still don't think it's fair playing this way. For both of you, I mean," Prowl said, gesturing at Smokescreen and Barricade.

Bluestreak finished arranging the cards and passed them to his left, piling them in front of Smokescreen. "I agree. I mean, we're three points up on you, and we've only got two more points to win. If you want, we can put up blocks on the bond, or even stop here and trade partners," he said. He glanced at Barricade and smiled. "I don't mind being partnered with Cade, even if he's still learning the game."

Barricade smiled back at Bluestreak, his familiar grin lighting up his face and a twirl of joy flashing through their bond.

But Smokescreen shook his helm as he started to shuffle the cards. "We're not that far behind! And anyway, I'm fine with this arrangement, for this game at least. So long as Barricade doesn't mind?" He glanced up and tipped a door wing towards the dark mech, who shook his helm. Smokescreen smiled and continued shuffling. "I appreciate the challenge, and I'm starting to get used to Barricade's tells. I have a better feel for his play style now, too." He started dealing out the cards to all four of them as he continued speaking. "Besides, Prowl is always thinking three or four tricks ahead of where we are, and his emotions reflect that, whereas I'm just trying to figure out what to do on the trick we're playing now." He picked up his hand and smiled at Prowl. "No offense, gorgeous, but your 'advanced strategy' just confuses me."

To that, Prowl laughed. "All right," he said. "But Bluestreak seems to be handling my 'advanced strategy' just fine." He looked at his cards and added, "Pass."

"That's because Blue's a numbers mech, like you. I work more on intuition," Smokescreen replied.

"Pass," Barricade said, lowering his cards before looking at Bluestreak. "And besides, I don't mind sitting next to Blue," Barricade said, flashing his grin again and sliding his hand onto Bluestreak's thigh under the table. "This way, I can distract him."

"Ah! Hey. Uh, pass," Bluestreak said, glancing through his cards and making a very distracted snap judgement.

Even as Barricade's hand slid further upwards towards his modesty panel, Bluestreak felt a sparkle of amusement and mischief from Prowl. "Barricade, you're not the only one who can distract the other team, you know," Prowl said, and reached under the table towards Smokescreen.

A moment later, Smokescreen's engine revved, and he fished under the table, bringing Prowl's wandering hand up, clasped in his own. "Hey, let's at least finish this game, all right?" he said, looking around at the other mechs around the table with a smile. When everyone nodded, he looked down at his cards before picking up one from the table. "Bolts are trump. And, I'll go this hand alone, Barricade." He winked at Barricade and added, "We've got to make up some points somehow."

Barricade nodded and laid down his hand, instead reaching for his cube. He took a sip and looked around the trine's living area. "It's a shame we can't – I don't know – pull out all the quarters on this ship and reconfigure them for the _Nemesis_." He watched as Prowl and then Bluestreak put down cards, only to be scooped up by Smokescreen. "I think I've mentioned before that these are way nicer than the crew quarters on the Decepticon cruiser."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully as he selected another card to play, amusement and a faint tinge of arousal still singing across their connection. "I've been assured that everyone will have a proper berth on the warship, and not just garage space," he said. "I've reviewed the plans, and we'll all have our own berth, even if they won't be private." He watched as Smokescreen collected all of the cards on the table again, and Bluestreak felt Prowl's strategy shift slightly. Even though he could feel Prowl thinking, Bluestreak had no idea what his bond mate had planned... Just like Smokescreen had complained about. Apparently oblivious to Bluestreak's confusion, Prowl continued. "And based on Wheeljack's estimates, the trip back to Cybertron will only take about six months. The _Nemesis's_ bridge technology is more efficient than the _Ark's_ , and it can create a space bridge much more frequently."

"Ugh. Six whole months in shared barracks," Bluestreak said, letting a tiny hint of a whine creep into his voice. When Prowl looked across at him, he shrugged. "I wish we could take the _Ark_ instead."

"I thought you were tired of lifting girders and holding things while they were welded back into place," Smokescreen said as he laid down another card. As he waited for Prowl to play, he glanced at Bluestreak and dipped his wings. "You've heard the engineering report. This ship won't be flying anytime soon. If you want to get back to Cybertron, we can't go there in this thing." He nodded at the cards Prowl and Bluestreak played, played a card to win the trick, then threw down the rest of his cards. "And the rest of this hand is mine." He flashed a grin at Barricade. "Four points for us!"

Barricade whooped and slid his cards across the table to Smokescreen. He grinned at Bluestreak. "One more point and we've got the win," he said, a swirl of joy flowing through the bond.

Prowl took the cards that Smokescreen gave him and started shuffling them together. Bluestreak could feel him calculating something even through the pleasure that had been colouring his presence throughout the whole evening. "What are the rules about throwing the game?" Prowl asked, his tone serious but his ice blue optics sparkling with mischief. He glanced at Smokescreen, a smile curling across his lips. "After all, we promised to finish the game before getting on with the rest of our evening plans." This time, the taste of arousal from Prowl was unmistakable.

Smokescreen reached across Prowl and grabbed his drink, ignoring Prowl's protest as he held it up to sniff at it. "Are you sure this isn't some of Sideswipe's engex?" he asked, swirling it around.

"Of course it's not," Prowl said, his wings flaring upwards in indignation. "We all agreed to your stipulation that there would be no intoxicants tonight." He waited until Smokescreen returned his glass before dealing out the next hand. "Why do you ask?"

A smile returning to his lips, Smokescreen leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Prowl's cheek. "You're just being way more flirtatious than usual tonight," he said, picking up his cards. "It's not that I mind," he said quickly. "It's just a little out of the ordinary."

"He's right," Barricade said carefully, not looking up from the cards he'd been dealt. Bluestreak could feel a streak of nervousness from Barricade as he agreed with Smokescreen's assessment of Prowl's demeanour. "Even I've noticed."

Prowl made a small sound, almost like one of agreement, as he dealt the rest of the cards. Then he put his hand on the table near Barricade's: not close enough to touch, but near enough so that Barricade glanced up at him. Prowl tipped a wing upward towards Barricade, then turned to smile at Smokescreen. "It's just that I've been... Well, I've been thinking about this all day." A flush of colour lit Prowl's face as he collected his own cards. "So I might be a little eager, I suppose." Prowl's door wings fluttered a few times.

"Oooh." Smokescreen paused in picking up his cards, and this time Bluestreak could feel an echo of Prowl's arousal in Smokescreen. The blue and red mech tipped his helm to look at Prowl's face, which was now flushed brighter even as Prowl tried to hide it behind his cards. "Did you want to leave off here and skip this game?" he asked.

"Aww, now, hang on," Barricade said. "We agreed to four games, and this is the last one anyway. And just like Smokescreen, I've got a feeling we can win this one." He grinned at Smokescreen before tapping the card that Prowl had placed face-up on top of the kitty. "Pick that up."

Prowl nodded in agreement as he picked up the card. "Fair enough. Sparks is trump," he said, selecting a card of his own to discard. "Your play, Barricade."

Bluestreak smiled into his cards as he compared the sensations he was getting from each of his bond mates. It was true that the game had been a means to an end: getting everyone in the same room and relaxed, ready to move on to the next activities that they'd planned out and negotiated. And like Prowl, Bluestreak had also been looking forward to their evening plans. And also like Prowl, he had started feeling excited about what they had planned.

But so had Barricade... And Smokescreen. And now that he focused on it, Bluestreak could sense varying degrees of excitement coming from all of them, each with their own distinct flavour: Smokescreen with calm enthusiasm for what was to come, Prowl with desire that had been kept bottled up for hours, and Barricade with nervous anticipation.

Bluestreak's wings fluttered slightly as he touched each of his bond mates through his connection with them, knowing they were just as excited about tonight as he was.

"Anyway, yeah, I did hear about the engineering report," Bluestreak said as Barricade played a card. "I overheard Grapple and Scrapper talking it over. Oh! Did you know that Grapple knew the Constructicons before the war?" he asked.

"A lot of Autobots and Decepticons knew each other before the war," Barricade said, his tone slightly flat.

Bluestreak brushed his bond with Barricade with a stroke of apology. "I know. It just seemed a bit strange to me but... I suppose it shouldn't, all things considered," he said, playing a card. "Anyway, they were talking about how much had to be done to repair the _Ark_ to make her spaceworthy again and... It's **a lot**." He rolled his shoulders, remembering all of the heavy lifting he'd done after the _Ark_ was nearly destroyed. "And I don't really want to stay here to help fix it myself. I've had enough of that sort of work."

"The humans will have their work cut out for them to repair the ship," Prowl said, watching as Smokescreen played a card before laying down one of his own and taking the trick. "But giving the humans the _Ark_ , along with the knowledge and assistance to repair it, was part of our agreement with them." He watched as play progressed around the table, culminating in Barricade taking the next trick. "I'm just glad we had enough volunteers to stay to ensure the humans would be able to make use of the _Ark_ , once it's repaired, as well as to construct a jump gate in this system."

Bluestreak nodded, letting a touch of his sadness into the bond. "I'm gonna miss Hound and Trailbreaker," he said. He played another card and heaved a vent, thinking of his two friends. "But I know Hound just **adores** this planet, so of course they were going to stay." He smiled, thinking of the many conversations he'd had with Hound, in which his friend had enthused about all of the life the planet contained. "I heard that Zehxaax is staying, too. I think they'll be a big help with all of the construction that'll be needed to get this ship spaceworthy, even if some of the humans seem a little unsure about Akkiel."

Prowl hummed thoughtfully. "I think once this planet sees more visitors from around the galaxy, it'll substantially change the outlook humans have regarding their own differences."

"Hopefully those introductions go well." Smokescreen glanced at Prowl. "Did the Prime make contact with the Galactic network's council?" he asked.

Prowl nodded, satisfaction brimming in his response. "Yes. Not only did they agree to send techs to help connect the jump gate, but they also agreed to ask the member systems if they'd be willing to assist us when we take back Cybertron." Prowl's wings quivered as he laid down a card, and he smiled. "I think even Starscream was impressed the Prime managed to get that promise from them."

Barricade collected the next trick, but Bluestreak could feet an odd melancholy creeping through their connection. "I'm gonna miss Djsuro," Barricade said, then shrugged. "But I get why he's staying behind. He's getting up there in age for a Povian, and he wants to pass on as much as he can to Carly, so she can help make any updates needed to Teletraan after he's gone." The mention of Djsuro's future passing caused a complex ripple of anticipatory grief in Barricade, one that flashed through the bond without any sign on his face or in his posture. A war's worth of hiding his emotions from other Decepticons had become second nature to Barricade. He played a card, and by the time he looked up at Bluestreak the melancholy and sadness were gone, or suppressed. "But I know he's looking forward to it. He said Carly's a good student, and he expects her to pick up on everything really fast."

"Wheeljack isn't quite as impressed with Sam, or so I've heard," Smokescreen said, playing a card. "But he's got a few years of study before Sam and the jump gate project will be working on anything physical. Right now it's just theory." He smiled. "I know I did a lot better in school once we got to practicums. I learn by doing, not by reading."

Bluestreak nudged Barricade with his elbow as the dark mech gathered up another trick that he'd won. "So speaking of Djsuro, have you decided what you want to do for him?" he asked, then patted Barricade's arm when the dark mech's wings dipped low. "I'll take that as a no."

"Oh?" Smokescreen's wings tipped upwards in immediate interest, peering at Barricade intently. "Did Djsuro finally ask you for something?"

Barricade tossed a card onto the table and then put his remaining cards face down so that he could rub his face with both hands. "Yes," he said, his voice muffled in his palms. "But I have no idea how I'm going to fulfil it." He let his hands fall again as he looked across at Smokescreen with a forlorn expression. "He asked me to, and I quote: 'do something to make up for all of the processors you've fragged up and all of pain you've caused over the course of the war'." He ended the sentence with a passable imitation of a pleased Povian trill, then buried his face in his hands again. "How the slag am I supposed to do **that**?"

From Prowl there was a tang of amusement at Barricade's theatrics, but from Smokescreen there was a sense of steady contemplation. Smokescreen hummed thoughtfully. "I think you should try to come up with an idea on your own," he said, ignoring Barricade's deep groan, "but if you're really stuck I might have an idea for you."

Barricade dropped his hands to the table again and stared across at Smokescreen, his wings perking upwards. "Really? What is it? I wanted to tell Djsuro what I'll be doing before we leave."

Smokescreen shook his helm and waggled a finger in the air. "Uh uh. Think about it first. We're just moving into the _Nemesis_ tomorrow. We're not leaving Earth for another few weeks." He smiled. "If you still haven't come up with an idea, let me know and we can talk to Djsuro together."

Bluestreak looked at Smokescreen, letting his curiosity flow into the bond. "What are you talking about?"

Crossing his fingers in front of his lips, Smokescreen shook his helm again. "I'll tell you later. I want **him** to think about it first," he said, pointing at Barricade.

"I hate thinking," Barricade said, but there was a smile on his lips. As he looked at the cards on the table, his smile grew into a grin, and then he threw down his remaining card. "And that's our point!" He whooped again and turned his grin on Smokescreen. "I **knew** we could do it!"

As Bluestreak threw down his last card with a groan, Smokescreen returned Barricade's hoot. He leaned forward to bump his fist against Barricade's, then fell back into his seat with a satisfied grunt. "I **told** you intuition would win over complicated strategy and peeking into each other's sparks," he said. Then he nudged Bluestreak with his elbow, his smile broadening. "I kind of like this mech. Are you planning on keeping him around?"

"I think so," Bluestreak said. He grabbed Barricade's hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'm kind of fond of him myself."

The joyous twirl from Barricade's was answered by Bluestreak's, and then echoed by Prowl's and Smokescreen's.

Prowl had been calmly gathering up the cards, sorting them and arranging them into a neat stack. As he set the cards back in the middle of the table, his wings fluttered. When he looked up, his ice blue optics had gone dark with desire. "So," he said, his calm voice belying the arousal he was finally letting run free over the bond. "Do we want to play another game, or did we want to move on to the rest of our evening?"

Smokescreen looked around the table, his wings tipping upwards. "Well, I think we know what Prowl prefers," he said, and Bluestreak felt the jolt from Prowl as Smokescreen's hand landed on his thigh. "And I'm certainly amenable to moving on." Then he looked at Bluestreak and Barricade. "Am I right in thinking the two of you agree as well?"

From Barricade, Bluestreak felt that same swirl of nervous anticipation he'd been sensing all evening. When Barricade nodded, Bluestreak looked back at Smokescreen. "Yup," Bluestreak said, and his own wings gave an anticipatory quiver.

"All right," Smokescreen said. "We all know the plan, and if anyone feels uncomfortable at any time they can step out, and we'll stop and discuss things. So. Ready?" As everyone nodded again, Smokescreen pushed his chair back and stood, holding his hands out to Prowl and Bluestreak. "Then let's get started."

In the weeks since Bluestreak and Barricade had re-established their bond, this night had always been in the back of Bluestreak's processor as something he wanted. He didn't bring it up for a while, mostly concerned about the reaction from Prowl. It seemed so self-indulgent, it almost didn't seem fair to even broach the topic with either Prowl or Smokescreen. But it was Barricade who convinced Bluestreak to go to his trine to discuss it.

Much to Bluestreak's surprise and delight, Prowl listened to Bluestreak's request with calm interest. After thinking it over for a few days, Prowl asked to talk it over as a group. During that discussion, everyone thought that it was something they, too, would like to try. They each weighed in with what they'd like to have happen. Then they came up with a plan for how they could make it a reality, while still keeping everyone feeling comfortable.

Prowl was adamant that he wanted no direct, intimate contact with Barricade, but was still intrigued by the thought of watching him with others (an admission Prowl made with a dramatic fluttering of his wings and flush to his cheeks). Smokescreen was open to participating in some 'play' with Barricade, but he drew the line at kissing. ("I don't mind seeing you as a friend with benefits, provided everyone's all right with that," Smokescreen had told Barricade, "but I can't ever see myself feeling romantically about you.") Barricade readily agreed to Prowl's and Smokescreen's boundaries, but mostly just wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to cause any friction between the trine mates. ("Doing that would hurt Bluestreak, and I swear on my spark that I will **never** do anything to hurt Bluestreak, ever again," Barricade said emphatically.) And to Bluestreak, the whole discussion had seemed like a fantasy come true, especially when all four of them started discussing what they'd like to see happen during their first evening all together.

However, Bluestreak had always thought that discussing the details of an intimate encounter ahead of time would take the spontaneity and excitement out of it. Sure, the first time he and Barricade had interfaced with Prowl had been planned, sort of, but not down to who was doing what to whom. Wasn't part of the fun just going with the flow?

But with an almost week between their planning session and this evening, Bluestreak had had a **lot** of time to think about what they were going to do. Thinking about it... Daydreaming about it... Picturing it in his processor as he leaned against the wall in the wash rack, his fingers wrapped tightly around his spike... Bringing himself to a shuddering climax as he remembered watching Prowl take detailed notes about exactly what Barricade was going to do to Bluestreak...

All right, maybe planning an encounter like this ahead of time **was** pretty hot.

And it seemed that Bluestreak wasn't the only one who had been looking forward to this evening. As a result, it didn't take long for all of them to find their way to the trine's berth room, and it wasn't long after that before Bluestreak was perched on the edge of the berth, looking down at Barricade, who had engulfed Bluestreak's spike with his mouth.

Bluestreak drank in the sight of his bond mate on his knees in front of him, his lips latched around his spike, his optics dimmed in concentration. Then Barricade looked up at Bluestreak, meeting his gaze, and Bluestreak felt the burst of adoration from Barricade even as his glossa twirled around the head of his spike, wet and warm.

Bluestreak shivered.

His shiver of desire propagated across the bond with his trine, and was echoed emphatically by Prowl. Bluestreak looked to his left, where Smokescreen sat in a chair, with Prowl sitting on his lap. Prowl's legs were splayed open, his valve gaping open obscenely and his spike standing firm from its housing. Prowl leaned back against Smokescreen's chest, his helm tipped backwards onto Smokescreen's shoulder. Smokescreen's bumper slotted just under Prowl's roof, and Smokescreen's arms were wrapped around Prowl's waist, one of his fists curled around Prowl's thick spike.

"Tell me what you're feeling, gorgeous," Smokescreen said into Prowl's audial, loud enough for Bluestreak and Barricade to hear. "Tell me what you're feeling him doing to Blue's spike."

Bluestreak knew that Smokescreen could **see** very well what Barricade was doing to his spike, but there was an intoxicating quiver of lust from Prowl as he tried to describe what he was feeling. "His spike," Prowl murmured, and he bucked his hips lightly, shoving his spike further into Smokescreen's fist. "It's so... Oooh..."

"Words, gorgeous," Smokescreen murmured into Prowl's audial, and Bluestreak saw that Smokescreen's optics were fixed on his, their colour deepening to a dark sapphire. Over the bond, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen's charge rising like a slow, inexorable tide. "What about Blue's spike?"

Prowl's back arched, his movement hampered by Smokescreen's arms and bumper, so he ended up squirming in Smokescreen's lap. "His mouth. It's so warm and... And..."

"And what?" Smokescreen purred, his lips grazing Prowl's audial.

"And... wet." Prowl's words were barely audible, being released with a whispered vent.

Oh, and it was; Bluestreak knew that first-hand. Whereas on previous nights with Barricade, his trine had been far enough away that he could only sense their emotions and a mounting charge, and feel the pleasure when that charge was released, this time they were all close enough that the physical sensations could also be sensed. It was easy for Bluestreak to feel the firm grip that Smokescreen had on Prowl's spike, and the feel of Smokescreen's arms wrapped around Prowl's waist. He could also feel the weight of Prowl on Smokescreen's legs, and feel the insistent pinging of Smokescreen's interface panel as his own charge rose in response to Prowl's tiny mewls.

But of course, Bluestreak also felt the hot, wet, undulating pressure of Barricade's lips and glossa on his spike. He could feel the grip that Barricade had on his thighs, holding them apart just a bit further than natural. He could feel the hot air from Barricade's helm vents on his inner thighs, and – in the few moments when Barricade was able to open his intake and swallow Bluestreak's spike to its root – he could feel the light touch of Barricade's chinstrap against the outer lips of his exposed valve.

And from Barricade, Bluestreak felt the weight of his own spike on Barricade's glossa, and how the tip of Barricade's glossa could run _just so_ around the head of his spike, and the touch of his own hand on the back of Barricade's helm. So he also felt the twinkle of mischief from Barricade, and felt the corner of Barricade's lips curl into a grin around his spike. Bluestreak looked down in time to see Barricade tilt his helm to the side, opening his mouth wide to display the dangerous, sharpened dentae within.

Then, very lightly, Bluestreak felt the gentlest brush of a fang against his shaft.

The unexpected sensation – hard where he was expecting soft, cool where he'd been feeling warmth - jolted through Bluestreak, forcing a moan from his vocalizer, before rocketing across the bond. Prowl cried out, bucking in Smokescreen's grasp as he swore. "Oooh fragging Primus!"

"Tell me, gorgeous," Smokescreen said, his struggle to keep his vocalizer steady apparent over the bond. His hand tightened around Prowl's thick spike, two of his fingers sliding up to rub across the tip as his other hand dipped down to plunge two fingers into Prowl's dripping valve. "Tell me."

But then Barricade carefully grazed Bluestreak's spike with his other fang, and Prowl was lost in the burst of his overload.

The second Prowl's charge crested, Bluestreak abandoned himself in it. He couldn't be sure, but it felt like both of their spikes pulsed in synchronicity, Bluestreak's transfluid pouring into Barricade's intake and Prowl's spurting onto his abdomen and Smokescreen's hand. Bluestreak could feel Smokescreen struggling to stay focused, rejecting the insistence of his spark and his interface protocols to follow his trine mates over the edge into a climax, and he could feel Barricade doing the same, holding back in anticipation of what was to come.

For a moment, Bluestreak felt like he was floating in a haze of lust and frustration and desire and anticipation, all swirled into one miasma of sensation. But then he felt himself being lifted and pushed backwards, and he heard Prowl's voice, insistent and shameless. "Please. Please, **please** , please, oh, please, **please** , I need... I **need**..."

"I got you, gorgeous," Smokescreen's voice said, and the berth rocked to one side even as Bluestreak tried to focus on his surroundings. "Don't worry, I've got you."

Then Barricade was over top of Bluestreak, and his fingers were in Bluestreak's valve and his mouth was on Bluestreak's lips and his legs were pinning Bluestreak's to the berth and his spike was sliding across Bluestreak's hip plating. Bluestreak lifted his arms, pulling Barricade down onto him more firmly, and Barricade responded enthusiastically, his engine revving and his lips peppering Bluestreak's cheeks and chin and throat with kisses and nips, this time not being so careful of his fangs.

There would be marks. Bluestreak didn't care.

And from his trine, Bluestreak felt Smokescreen delving into Prowl's mouth, one hand clutching at Prowl's headlight and another lifting one of his legs. He felt Smokescreen's throbbing spike, **finally** free of its housing, and he felt the brush of Smokescreen's spike against the dampness of Prowl's valve.

"Cade, please, **please** ," Bluestreak gasped in an unconscious echo of Prowl as Barricade's lips wandered lower and his fingers plunged deeper. Bluestreak writhed as he felt Smokescreen's spike sank into Prowl's valve, and his fingers dug into the hinges of Barricade's wings, seeking to pull Barricade even tighter against him. "Please!"

Barricade only laughed, a low, rough sound that went straight to Bluestreak's array, but yes, **yes** , Barricade drew back and then thrust forward, driving into Bluestreak's valve in a smooth motion.

The first overload seemed only to have taken the edge off of Bluestreak's charge, since he was still inundated with sensations from his trine and bond mates. But that very first thrust of Barricade's spike, combined with the overlapping sensations from his other lovers, almost tipped Bluestreak over into another overload immediately. The warm grip of Prowl's valve on Smokescreen's spike, the firm hold of Smokescreen's hand on Prowl's leg as he held it higher, the quiver of Bluestreak's valve around Barricade's spike, the need from Prowl, the love from Smokescreen, the devotion from Barricade... Bluestreak swam in the sensations and emotions, letting himself get lost in the pleasure of it all.

And then he felt someone clumsily grabbing at his hand, hooking through just the little finger at first before finding the rest. Another hand wrapped around his, fingers twining through his, the grip tight and steady in his.

Prowl.

Bluestreak opened his optics and tipped his helm to the side. Atop him, Barricade moved rhythmically and steadily, his arms bracketing Bluestreak. Beside him, Smokescreen was doing almost the same, holding himself somewhat upright as he filled Prowl again and again.

And Prowl, sprawled on his back with one leg pushed back to his chest, was looking back at him. Prowl's optics were nearly white as his charge climbed to critical levels, and his mouth was half open in oblivious pleasure, but he met Bluestreak's gaze... And smiled.

Bluestreak tried to return Prowl's smile (tried, not sure if he was succeeding because his processor was already struggling to keep up with all of the input it was receiving), but he squeezed Prowl's hand and said, "I love you." He was looking at Prowl when he said it, but he pushed those words and the sentiment and truth behind them through the bond to all of the sparks that resided alongside his, and received immediate reactions from them. From Smokescreen, he received uncomplicated love and affection. From Prowl, he felt adoration and commitment to what they'd all agreed upon. And from Barricade, he sensed joy and relief at being **with** his bond mate again, after so long alone.

When Barricade's charge peaked, just as he was caught in the swirl of emotion of love from Bluestreak, his overload pulled Bluestreak over the edge alongside him. But Bluestreak wasn't alone; his consciousness was twined so intimately with his other bond mates that they tumbled with him. They crested the wave of charge and were caught in the undertow, pulled into the maelstrom of pleasure and ecstasy of an overload that seemed to simply go on and on as one mate's charge ricocheted to another in a seemingly endless cascade.

Overloading alongside one bond mate was intense. Overloading alongside two bond mates was even more powerful. And alongside three bond mates, even ones not bonded to each other... Bluestreak found it overwhelming.

It took him some time to recover.

When he did return to his senses, Bluestreak found himself curled onto his side, with Barricade spooned against his back, holding him gently. Bluestreak was pressed into Prowl's side, his helm resting on Prowl's shoulder, while Smokescreen was snuggled against Prowl's other side, with one of Bluestreak's hands clasped in his, resting on Prowl's abdomen.

Bluestreak drifted, not sure of how much time had passed and not really caring. He felt the drowsy contentment from Barricade, a calm peace from Prowl, and a protective happiness from Smokescreen. For Bluestreak, there was a quiet joy at having three bright spots alongside his in his spark.

It was good, and it was enough, and it made him feel complete... In his mind, and in his body, and in his spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming this far with me! 💗 I never thought that this story would go so many places, but it has been an interesting ride. (I'll have more to say after the last chapter is posted.)
> 
> For the the last chapter we'll have a bit of a time skip, and it's a bit of a longer chapter; I hope you'll stick around to enjoy that one next week! ^.^
> 
> And now, a little snip from the end of this chapter that I had to remove because it just didn't fit the mood, but I still really liked it. 😅
>
>>   
> "So... Was that good for everyone?" Smokescreen asked.
>> 
>> "It was definitely good for me," Barricade mumbled into the back of Bluestreak's neck.
>> 
>> "Me too," Bluestreak said.
>> 
>> "Guh," said Prowl.
>> 
>> Smokescreen laughed and kissed the side of Prowl's helm. "Not feeling too articulate, gorgeous?"
>> 
>> "Nuh," Prowl clarified.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> If you are enjoying this story, please consider sharing it on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1208910603080884225), [Tumblr](https://pipermca.tumblr.com/post/189818438612/mind-body-and-soul), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/994907)!


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